


Apocalypse, Please

by sparrowshellcat



Category: Supernatural, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-29
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 03:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/499122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowshellcat/pseuds/sparrowshellcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark had gone to Afghanistan to see a miracle.</p><p>According to the official story, he'd died in a cave in the desert, hit by shrapnel from his own bomb. Only a few scattered people know that Tony found his miracle, and finds himself burdened once again with his father's legacy - Howard Stark was a hunter of monsters. Only things can never just be simple for any Stark, so he finds himself hunting alongside a man that you wouldn't really like when he's angry, and a relic of an era long gone. At least he has the owners of the Hawk's Nest and a man named Nick Fury to turn to for advice.</p><p>Oh, and an angel named Thor thinks that he's supposed to avert the Apocalypse. Naturally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apocalypse, Please

**Author's Note:**

> Written for AU Big Bang 2012. There is an INCREDIBLE mix for this story that was created for it by pauli, and can be found [here](http://inmediasres.dreamwidth.org/11020.html), and you should absolutely go listen, it captures the story _perfectly_.
> 
> \---
> 
> For more fic and art, you can follow me on Tumblr! [sparrowshellcat](http://sparrowshellcat.tumblr.com)

“Steve, you son of a bitch, don't you dare die on me!”

Steve didn't really seem to be in much of a shape to answer at the moment, because he was bleeding rather profusely right now, blood bubbling weakly from his lips, his eyes not really focused on anything. He was laying back in Tony's lap, head resting on the other's thighs, but if the life wasn't already gone from the other man's eyes, it was going to leave soon.

“Wake up!” Tony raged, shaking his shoulders. Steve's head lolled limply, like a rag doll. “ _Wake up_ , Steve!”

“Tony, we gotta go,” Bruce said, holding a cloth to his own head, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“I am _not_ leaving him.” He snarled.

The doctor sighed, and said, “Steve's had a good life, Tony, this is his second time around, come on, you know it's not safe to stay here, we have to keep moving... they're going to come _back_ if we don't – if we don’t keep _moving_!”

Tony clutched Steve closer, then turned his head skywards, yelling at the ceiling. “ _Thor_! Come on, I know you can hear me, you bastard! Get your feathered ass down here and _save_ him!”

“Most unorthodox prayer _I’ve_ ever heard,” Bruce muttered to himself.

No one really seemed like they were showing up in response to the plea, either. Tony let out a roar of frustration, shaking Steve again. “Wake _up_!”

The door based open, and Clint hurried into the room, clutching at his empty quiver, brows furrowed. “What are you ladies doing in here, having a tea social? We have an army of black eyes swarming us, we - “ His eyes fell on Steve, and he hissed, startled. “God, you had _one_ job, Tony, just keep them away from him...”

“Shut up, Clint.” Tony muttered, holding Steve, but there was something changing in the room. There was light, a blue light that was beginning to glow.

Oddly enough, it was coming from Tony's chest.

“Look, gather him up, maybe - “ Clint glanced at Bruce, who looked about as optimistic as he did. “Maybe we can find a way. But let's go.”

“Go without me,” Tony's chest was really starting to shine, now, bright and blue.

“We're not going to – Tash can't hold them off out there!” Clint argued.

“Just _go_ , I’ll catch up,” he said, through gritted teeth, face lit oddly from beneath by the blue light. “If Thor can't be bothered to get his fucking halo'd ass down here to help me, then I’ll just do it _myself_!”

And then the blue light exploded.

 

\---

 

It had started innocently enough, really.

Tony's whole body was sore, but he supposed that driving for days across the country while trying to get away from anything and everything ever and sleeping in the back of the car when he did the whole time would sort of do that to a person. After all, he was mostly just trying to convince himself that there might actually be something out here worth trying to fight for, and in the absence of that, well, maybe he could find a little sanity along the way.

Sanity wasn't really his thing, apparently.

He was sore, he was exhausted, and he really just desperately wanted a beer and a burger, and maybe he'd find something like that out here. Maybe not. At least he was back in the kind of place where he'd maybe find one – finding one in backwoods America would be a lot easier than it had been when he'd been touring around Europe and the Middle East. Should have headed out to India, maybe, instead of coming back here, it was easier to disappear out there. No burgers there, but less of the other bullshit. But no, this was where he was needed, all kept saying, so... here he was. Driving down dusty roads in a beat up Dodge Charger that he wouldn't have been caught dead in, five years ago, trying to figure out how to make all signs _stop_ pointing to him needing to be here.

He ran his fingers through his hair, and glanced at one of the mile marker signs as he passed.

 _Antioch, California_. Sounded... encouraging.

Well, at least they probably had a burger joint, or something, he just really needed something to eat, and something to drink, and... yeah. A burger sounded about the closest thing to heaven he'd ever heard.

Antioch was a small town, there wasn't really a whole hell of a lot there. He wasn't really surprised, either, because he was sort of used to small crappy towns where awful shit happened in the shadows, but at least this one seemed quiet. He didn't see any dead trees, he didn't see any crop circles, and so far, he hadn't yet managed to see any women in white hiding in the corners of buildings, behind alleys. At least that was something. Still, he was wary as he slid into town, and as he usually did, he avoided the franchises, avoided the major places, because he knew they were going to be swarming with people that might recognize him, people that might be using cell phones to take pictures that might end up on the internet. He headed mostly out of town, instead, finding a little place on the outskirts of the booming little _tiny_ metropolis.

Wasn't much of a place, if you asked him. “Hawk's Nest” was written on the front of the restaurant, in faded paint that probably hadn't been touched up in ten years or so. Wooden building, not much in the way of windows, a few old cars parked around the place – one of them a slick looking classic car that Tony could _totally_ appreciate.

He pulled his beater into the space beside the other car, and stepped out, considering it for a moment. Yeah, that a _nice_ car. 1966 Pontiac GTO, the kind of car he used to collect. Still, he had a _mission_ here, he needed to get going.

Heh, he thought to himself. A mission for cheeseburgers. Best mission he'd been on in a long time.

He fixed the collar of his jacket in the rear view of the GTO, then straightened up, planning to head inside and get himself that food, when a woman walking out audibly gasped and said, “Stark!”

Tony looked up, sharply.

“Oh my _god_ ,” the woman said, stepping closer to him, all smiles. She was a typical example of middle American tourist, far as he could tell, slightly pudgy, kistchy tourist type shirt that had probably been purchased on the vacation, dark hair tied up in a messy bun that had little curls falling out of them in the humidity. Nice enough lady, probably, except that she was a threat to his happy little life that he had going. Well, one that wasn't happy at all, really. But _his_ life, dammit. “You're _Tony Stark_ , aren't you? Oh my god, the papers said you were _dead_...”

Tony laughed, and held up his hands before he did what he was best at in the world.

He lied.

“God, I hear that all the time... if I was half as smart or rich as that man is supposed to have been, I would have a _much_ better car. Or house. Or _something_. Sorry, lady, but my name is Ronnie Dio... and I’m a mechanic. I mean, a _good_ mechanic, but... not a rich one.”

“Oh.” She sort of drooped a little. “...you look a _lot_ like him...”

“Sorry, hun, you don't get to meet a celebrity today, I’m just a regular man, nothing special. Sorry.”

“I'm sorry.” She said, and now she was getting all flushed and embarrassed, trying to make amends for what was clearly a ridiculous thing to have thought.

Even if she was right.

“Hey, it's all right.” Tony shrugged, grinning slightly at her.

“No really, let me make it up to you... I could buy you a drink!” She beamed, all smiles and hopefulness.

Little over eager for a woman that just thought he was a celebrity... but celebrity status or not, Tony was sort of used to women hitting on him. Even after he'd gone on the lam and become someone _other_ than the man he'd once been, he still got hit on pretty much everywhere he went. Nice to know he still _had_ it, but... the fact that she was trying a little too hard freaked him out, actually. He just wanted a fucking _burger_ to get over the fact that just twelve hours ago, he'd been ankle deep in ghouls.

“Thanks, but... no thanks.” Tony slid past her, and into the little bar, taking a deep breath as he did. Shit, women were harder to get away from than werewolves.

The inside of the bar itself made him feel _much_ better.

It was smokey, and dark, and when he walked, he could feel the crunch of sawdust and peanut shells under his feet. He was pretty sure that smoking had been made illegal inside restaurants in this state, but there were definitely a few people smoking around the room, and none of them really seemed to mind that they were breaking California law. Well, if they didn't mind, Tony didn't mind, because the kind of places where people casually broke laws were the kinds of places that Tony could probably disappear quite easily into the cracks. Which is pretty much what he wanted, wasn't it?

He picked a spot by the bar, which was usually where the drunkards went, and settled onto a stool. Nice place.

And the red head that walked over towards him behind the bar was definitely a nice thing to find in a place like this. All curves and smooth lines and red curls tumbling in ringlets down from the ponytail she'd tossed her hair up into. She pursed her lips slightly when she neared him, as though she was pretty sure she knew what he was thinking and wasn't impressed. “What can I get you?”

 _Your name, number, and a tour of your bedroom_?

“Your best house brew, and... you got cheeseburgers?” Tony asked, instead.

“We have the best bacon cheeseburgers in the state.” She said, and he wished she had a nametag or something, so he could figure out what to call her. “Or at least our cook seems to think they are, and apparently his word is law.”

He smirked, and said, “Get me one of those, then.”

The woman nodded, and headed off towards the end of the bar, and not seeming to care that he was watching her go.

A moment later, redhead was back with a large glass, which she slid towards him. It was frosty cold with light condensation on the outside of it, with a dark golden liquid inside, minimal head on the top. He was impressed, a lot of the bars he'd been to since he'd returned to the states had been less impressive with pouring their drinks. Beer wasn't _really_ his drink of choice, but it seemed a little early in the day to be throwing himself into his usual drinking. Just a _little_ too early. If he stayed here much longer, it was probably going to change. “Thanks,” he grinned, as he took it, then glanced up at her. “So what do I call you, ma'am?”

“Not 'ma'am', for one.” She smirked, and shook her head before she headed back to the window that opened in the back of the barspace into the kitchen, and hit the little silver bell on the counter.

Tony snickered, and sipped at his beer. He liked a woman with gumption.

He totally wanted a woman like that.

The blond that stepped up to the window on the kitchen side wasn't bad, either, actually. He wasn't a tall man, but he had a strong jaw and sharp eyes, and he was grinning slightly in a way that spoke of mischief and a sharp wit. He could totally hook with a guy like that, too, under the right circumstances.

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, Tony tugged up one of the news sites that he usually relied on, flicking through the articles. It was mostly mumbo jumbo crazy people shit, but every once in awhile, they got something right, and he usually got a lot of hunts off of these websites. He also got a lot of shit that didn't really help him any, but every now and again, he got something that _wasn't_ half bad, so... it wasn't so bad, having to sort the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. (Not that he had any idea what that actually meant... Obie used to say it all the time, when he was a kid, but he'd never really figured out exactly what the hell he was talking about. Some kind of farming metaphor, he guessed, though he'd never actually done any farming before.) He could sort through the shit if he could actually get something good out of it, sometimes.

A plate suddenly thumped down on the bar in front of him, and Tony looked up at the redhead. “Your burger.” She said.

“You still haven't given me your name.”

“If you need me, it's Natasha.” She shook her head, and turned away.

“Natasha.” Tony tried the name out in his mouth, turning it over on  his tongue. Smooth name, smooth woman, that seemed fitting, it was almost sleek. “Nice name.”

“Apparently my parents thought so.” Natasha said, and though she kept her back to him, he could see a little quirk of a smile on her lips as she worked, cleaning up the end of the bar. She hadn't moved away at least, yet, so that was a start. Weren't bartenders supposed to want to talk to people, anyway? Cheap therapy.

“So, Natasha,” Tony picked up the hamburger, which was an impressive stack of meat and cheese, and hefted it, consideringly. Yeah, no fast food joint anywhere in the world was gonna  have something like this. _This_ was food. “Seen anything unusual in these parts?”

Her spine stiffened, but she didn't answer at first, so he just took a bite of his burger. Good _god_ , it was good.

“Nothing unusual in these parts.” Natasha answered, finally.

“I don't mean like... celebrity sightings, I mean... actual _unusual_ things.” He said, swallowing the bite of his food. Shit, the blond was right, this was probably the best cheeseburger in California, he was going to have to eat more of these. A lot more of these. This Hawk's Nest place might become a regular stopover for him, now. “You know, actually unusual things. Things that can't really be explained.”

She turned to face him, properly, gripping a rag cloth, tightly. “...nothing. In these _parts_.”

The way she said that made him think that she was only being half honest. Tony arched a brow, then took another bite of his burger, considering her for a few moments. God, redheads... dangerous, weren't they?

Natasha sighed heavily, and shook her head before she swiped at the counter again. “Trust me, there's nothing here, you're not going to find anything round these parts.”

“So other parts?” He asked, chewing.

“I don't know you, genius.” She tapped the counter in front of him. “I ain't gonna spill everything to a man I don't even know.”

“Ronnie Dio.” He said, smirking. “So you know who I am. Feel free to spill.”

“Bullshit.”

Tony looked up as the blond man sort of swaggered behind the bar from the kitchen itself, thumbs hooked in the waist of the apron he had tied tightly around his waist. He looked constantly casual and relaxed, which was something Tony sort of envied, and he was also a little jealous of the casual way that the blond swung his arm around Natasha's waist. Of course, he snickered a little when she swatted at his hand, irritated, and pushed him away a step or two. Blondie didn't look all that offended, though, he just laughed, and leaned on the bar to point at Tony. “You're not a former singer from Black Sabbath. I know Black Sabbath, you're not him. You _do_ look an awful lot like Tony Stark, though.”

“Naw, see... Tony Stark is dead.” Tony shrugged. “Haven't you read the newspapers? He was killed in that _tragic_ accident in Afghanistan.”

“No, see, that's bullshit too.” Blondie shrugged. “There was no body. I don't believe nothing without a body.”

“Could have been spontaneous combustion.” He suggested, taking another bite.

“Spontaneous combustion is code for 'we don't know what the fuck actually happened',” the man smirked, and shook his head, before offering his hand. “So you've met my lovely partner, Natasha... I’m Clint.”

“Hello, Clint.” He shifted his burger into just his left hand, and shook the other man's hand.

“So you must be Tony, then.”

“Tony Stark is dead. I’m Ronnie Dio.” He said, with a smirk.

“And if you believe that, I’ve got a bridge to sell you.” Clint said, shaking his head. “Didn't know you'd started hunting, though I guess it makes sense, considering what you apparently _saw_ before you 'died'... heard it a phoenix. Shit, that must be awesome, I thought they were extinct.”

“It wasn't a phoenix.” Tony set down his burger with an air of tragedy – and it really was, Clint made a damn fine burger – and folded his hands on the edge of the bar. Maybe it was time to test the waters, to figure out what exactly these people might know. Maybe the symbol over the door was just supposed to be some local colour, something from historical roots in this area, maybe – or maybe it was supposed to be exactly what it was, which was an anti-demon ward. “Just a black eyes. And yes, I’m Tony Stark. I’d thank you to not spread that around...”

“A black eyes.” Natasha glanced at Clint, and shook her head. “Well, that explains a lot. Just demons.”

“It wasn't _just demons_.” He clenched his fists slightly, and tried to force himself to be calm. It wasn't going to do any good, getting all worked up about this again. After all, it was in the past, it was behind him, and no one really needed to know or care about the fact that he had nearly gotten killed several times all because he had a desire to see something that was apparently a miracle, in Afghanistan. Guess they knew what they were talking about. “But fine, if you want to call it _just_ demons, then it was just demons. Now Tony Stark is _dead_ , and I’m looking for anything unusual. You got anything unusual?”

“Not around here.” Natasha shook her head, again. “You're in a hunter bar, Tony. Welcome to the deal, there are more of us, and there's nothing in these parts. You want something in _other_ parts, I might be able to help.”

Tony unclenched his hands. “...good.”

“You don't seem all that surprised about this.” Clint said, considering him for a moment.

“What, that this is a hunter bar?” Tony motioned at the symbol over the door. “I noticed that when I first came in. Kinda hard to miss.”

“Huh.” The blond frowned slightly, considering it. “I sort of thought everyone that would come in would just think it was local colour. Have we even got anyone that has actually figured out what it was, before?”

“Yeah... the time the demon tried to walk in.” Natasha smirked.

“Right. That time. I was trying to forget about that. So. You working solo?” Clint asked, crossing his arms.

“As a rule.”

“Well, that's a shit poor idea.” Clint shook his head, snickering. “Good hunter's always got someone watching his back, it's stupid to go alone.”

“Yeah, well... more stupid to trust people, far as I’m concerned.” Tony shrugged.

“And _that_ is precisely the kind of attitude that is going to get you killed.” Natasha rapped her knuckles on the counter, then shrugged, and stepped away. “But if you wanna get all suicidal about hunting, then go to, hot stuff. Any particular place you want to be headed? Cause maybe I can direct you somewhere we got a lead.”

“Not too particular.” Tony admitted, and picked his burger back up. Hopefully it hadn't suffered by starting to go cold. “Anywhere you got an _interesting_ lead.”

“Oh, I got interesting. Just might be a little out of your pay grade, Stark.” She smirked.

“Pretty sure I can handle anything you can throw at me, sweetheart.” He smirked slightly, taking a bite out of his burger, calmly.

A knife whizzed past his ear, just cutting a little of his hair off, and imbedded itself in the wall on the other side of the bar. A few of the patrons jumped, in surprise, but for the most part, they looked remarkably unsurprised by the fact that the bartender had just started throwing knives at some of the patrons. Tony, himself, jumped, and gaped at the knife in the wall for a moment, then twisted to face her again, blinking. “...holy crap.”

“You said you could handle anything I could throw.” Natasha shrugged.

“I didn't mean _literally_!”

“People never mean literally, but they usually get it.” Clint snickered, and smiled at him. “Hunting alone ain't healthy, Tony. Take my word on it. But if you're insisting like an idiot... hey, Tash, can I give him that job we found up in Tecumseh?”

“Up in _Canada_?” Tony blinked at him, confused.

“Kansas. Actually.”

He mulled over that for a moment, then ate the last bite of his burger. “All right, I have no beef with Kansas, I can go to Kansas. What's in Kansas?”

“Well, technically, I gotta get the a-okay from Tash. She's the one who manages all of this. Tash!” Clint waved at the woman, who by now had started cleaning up some of the tables, stacking plates on her arm. “Can I give him the Kansas file or can't I?”

Natasha looked up, then shrugged. “Give it to him if you want. If he gets killed, we'll just send someone else.”

“You're a bundle of sunshine, aren't you?” Tony shook his head as he smirked at the woman.

“Fuck you too,” she said, calmly.

“She always so... ah...” Tony waved a hand, searching for the right word.

“Bitch-tastic?” Clint smirked.

“We'll go with that.”

“Pretty much,” the blond shrugged, and shifted through a series of folders that were stacked neatly on a shelf at the back of the bar. “I mean, as long as she likes you. If she doesn't like you, or you're someone she has to get to, and she's sweet, and kind, and polite to you, then you're _screwed_ , because she's going to kill you.”

“Good to know.” Tony mulled over that for a moment, then shifted in his seat so that he was facing Clint properly, and started finally eating his fries. “So what's the case in Tecumseh?”

“Looks like demon activity.” Clint shrugged, tossing the file folder to him.

“Mm, just demons, then?” He flipped the folder open, looking through it. Newspaper clippings, police reports, a few pages of witness reports. Weather patterns even, these people were pretty damn thorough. From the looks of it, about a good half dozen people had gone missing, and two had shown up dead. Not just easy dead, either, all hacked up and bloodied, like someone had drained them. Not with bite marks, though, so at least there was that, Tony wasn't really a fan of vampires. “I see the lightning storms and all, but I’m not sure I’m seeing the 'it is definitely demons' thing.”

“There was sulfur in their houses.”

“Still doesn't guarantee anything,” Tony pointed out, but had to admit that was a pretty damn good point. “So we've got sulfur and missing people. Awesome. We have any idea what the hell they were trying to do there?”

“None. But a bunch of people missing... doesn't sound good.”

“No, that's true.” He agreed, scratching at his chest through his bleach-stained t-shirt, frowning slightly. Compulsive move. “Right. I should probably get to work, then.”

“You sure you don't want someone to go with you?” Clint leaned forward on the counter, brows furrowed as he clasped his hands, looking at him. “Listen to me. It's all well and good that you aren't upset to find out that you aren't alone out there, I’m glad to hear you're adjusting well and everything, especially considering the fact that six months ago, you were just the biggest weapons manufacturer in the world. I’m impressed. But you're _new_ at this, Stark, you probably could use some help.”

“I don’t play well with others.” Tony smirked, and closed the folder, sliding it to the side on the bar, and taking a swig of his beer. Good beer, but he really needed something a little more. “Can I get a scotch? Double, neat.”

“Sure.” He leaned back, and grabbed a glass and one of the bottles off of the shelf.

A moment later, Clint slid the glass across the bar to him, and Tony accepted it, gratefully. “Thanks, man.”

“Not a problem.” Clint leaned on the bar, arms crossed as he considered him. “So what makes you such a damn expert, then? Cause I’m pretty damn sure that if I ran into this after only six months of trying to figure out what the hell was going on, I’d be looking for any help I could get. I mean, did you even know that demons were _real_ when you first got nearly ganked?”

He knocked back half of the glass, in one swallow, and grimaced slightly before he set the glass back down on the counter. Hunching his shoulders, as though trying to shield himself from whatever might be out there, Tony licked his lips. The bar he was staring at was scarred and wounded, marred by the rings of a thousand glasses and their condensation, the nicks of a thousand objects or keys or knives or guns or whatever the hell else someone had tossed onto the wood. There were even a few spots where someone had scratched their name or a symbol or something onto the wood itself, maybe in an effort to make their mark on the place, maybe just to pass some time. There were a couple spots that were burnt, probably by drunkards smoking and missing when they ground out the butts in the ashtrays. It was at this counter that he was staring at when he finally said, “No, I had no idea. I should have... my parents were killed by a demon, when I was fourteen. But I didn't know. I was a _cynic_.”

The other huffed slightly, and pushed off the bar, stretching. His spine audibly cracked, then he dropped his arms, and said, “We're all cynics, baby.”

“So I’ve heard.” Tony smirked, and looked up at Clint, finally. “The more I research, the more I discover that no one actually believes in anything if they haven't seen it with their own two eyes.”

“If I haven't killed one, I assume it's myth.” Clint shrugged. “You ain't just running into this blind, are you?”

“Of course not.” He snorted.

Clint frowned slightly, eyes narrowed, then shook his head. “All right, your funeral. But _call_ if you need back up.”

“What's the number?”

“On the file folder.” The other nodded at the folder, which he'd still left on the bar, and sure enough, scrawled in pen at the top, it read “ _The Hawk's Nest, 901-274-3506._ ”

“...you get panicked calls often, after you give hunters a case?” Tony smirked, picking up his cup again, draining the last of it.

“As a matter of fact...” Clint snickered. “I do. Lemme know if you need to be saved.”

“Can do,” he nodded, grabbing the folder, and sliding out of his seat.

\---

Tony supposed it might be easier to get information out of people if he could pretend to be a federal agent, or something important, but the moment he put a suit on, people immediately recognized him. Why he had to be known for being a smart dresser in a suit before, he certainly regretted that, now. Still, at least he pulled off a police uniform pretty damn well.

After all, there is no way in all hell that anyone would expect to see Tony Stark wearing a _police uniform_.

If anyone looked too closely, it would be clear that it was fake – purchased second hand at a sketchy looking thrift shop, a few years out of style for current police uniforms, and he'd had to patch a couple holes that he hoped to god were caused by moths, not bullets. With a bullet proof vest, though, they were hidden, and he cut a pretty impressive figure, if you asked him, with a gun an handcuffs on his side. Still, there were days he seriously considered shaving his goatee right off, so that he could wear a suit and command real authority as a detective or something, but then he remembered how much he looked like a bit of a weasel without the goatee, and left it. It wasn't quite as sleek as it was back when he used to go to the barber about twice a week, anyway.

It was the information that he could get that was most important, though.

“Just calm down, ma'am, please... just keep breathing, I just need the facts. No matter what they sound like.” Tony said, smiling at her, disarmingly.

Keisha Williams sniffled slightly, wiping at her nose with a kleenex. She was a beautiful woman, though a little red eyed and exhausted, which made sense considering the fact that her father had gone missing just the day before, and she'd been the only witness to see him. Visiting to help him with his yard work, she had said, he was having trouble with his hydrangeas, apparently. He had briefly entertained the thought that maybe she was torn up enough to need some sexual comfort, but that was probably in poor taste. “The other police have already asked about this...”

“I know,” he nodded, trying to be comforting. “It's just really important that we do the fact checking. Can I hear your version of it?”

“You'll just laugh at me.” Keisha muttered, quietly. “The other cops just said I was... stressed. Because of my father's disappearance, they said I should just relax and maybe... stop telling the story.”

“Keisha.” Tony leaned forward, squeezing her knee, trying to give her the patient smile that had worked so well many times before for him. “I don't care how crazy it sounds, or anything else. I just want you to tell me your story, all right?”

She took a deep breath. “Well... we were working in the yard, I was trying to take care of the flowers, figure out what was going wrong. Pretty sure there were squirrels digging in the yard, so... so we were outside, working on it, and... and suddenly there was this black _smoke_ , I don't know where it came from. At first I thought one of the houses was on fire, or something, but... then I thought maybe it was a swarms of bees, or something, it was _so_ black. It came out of nowhere, and swarmed towards my father, and... it went into his _mouth_. He _swallowed_ it, but not because he wanted to, it just seemed to force itself down his throat. Then...” Keisha hesitated, swallowing. “This is going to sound even _more_ nuts than that... his eyes went _black_. Just... just all black. I’ve never seen anything so evil looking.”

He nodded, quietly, meeting her eyes, trying to keep her calm. “What happened then?”

“Dad just stood up, and... walked away. As though nothing had happened. I chased after him, but he didn't stop, he just kept walking, and when I tried to grab his arm, he just... _threw me_. I hit a wall, I got knocked out...”

Tony's eyes flicked up to her hairline, and that explained the little bandage at her hairline, so stark white against her skin. He'd wondered. “And when you woke up, he was gone.”

She nodded, twisting the kleenexes, shredding them slightly.

“Did he say anything? After the black eyes thing?” Tony asked, quietly.

Keisha blinked at him. “...you believe me?”

“I've heard weirder.” Tony smirked, and patted her knee again. “C'mon, did he say anything, afterwards? Before he disappeared.”

She shook her head, then hesitated, and bit her lip. “No, he... he didn't say... it wasn't like a conversation, or anything, but... he did say something... he said _banner_. Does that make any sense to you?”

He blinked. “...no. but I’ll see if I can find out what it means.”

“Thank you,” Keisha said, softly. “Thank you for listening to me. Everyone else has just sort of treated me like I was insane.”

“I don't think you're insane.” Tony grinned at her. “I think you've just had a _really_ long week.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “...find my dad?”

“I'll do my best,” he nodded, smiling at her, then stood, and flicked a card out towards her. “This is my number. If anything else happens, or you think of anything else, then... give me a call, all right? Any time.”

“Thank you,” Keisha smiled faintly. “Thank you very much.”

“Just doing my job, ma'am.” Tony dipped his head, politely, and as he headed out to his car – which really didn't look much like a police officer's car, he knew that, but at least it was a serviceable car – and dropped into the front seat.

There was a dull whistle from the passenger seat, and he leaned over to pat the top of the metal box that was sitting on the leather seat beside him. Hard to believe he'd had to actually break into his own  building just to get this box, and this box was actually only a sad little version of the machine it usually represented. “That's right, Dummy, I’m not hunting alone, I’ve got you by my side.”

Dummy whistled, plaintively, and Tony sighed as he leaned back in his seat, eyes closed. “I know, you miss your arm. But on the plus side, I feel like turning you into a microwave far less often.”

From the sounds of it, that, apparently, didn't comfort Dummy very much.

 

\---

 

Tony pinned another newspaper article up on the tacky wallpaper, and considered the wall. A map of the county spread out across the wall, with photos of the missing men and women, newspapers articles pinned up beside research he'd printed off of the internet, red strings matching some of them with some of the others, pictures to locations, stories to ideas. The wallpaper behind them had mermaids and fish spread out across it, ugly as sin, yellowed and faded. Ugly.

He'd seen worse, though.

Hooking his thumbs in his pocket, Tony considered the display he'd spread out across the wall, considering it for a few moments. It wasn't really his type of thing, pinning things on a wall, but he had to look at the whole thing, dammit, and he didn't have his computers handy. He missed the holographic projections.

Tony probably missed JARVIS the most, though. Frustrating.

Taking a deep breath, Tony ran his hand through his hair, then glanced over at his father's journals. They were leather bound and probably were way too expensive when they were purchased, but he carried them with him in the trunk of his car, now. They were the most valuable thing he owned. They contained all of Howard Stark's notes from some thirty years of hunting, everything he'd ever seen, everything he'd ever heard, everything he'd ever learned. Tony had been willed them, when his father was killed, but he hadn't opened them at the time. They'd sat, for years, in one of his storage rooms, and when Tony had broke into his own house to get some of his things, these had been the first thing he'd gone to get.

The problem was, Howard's notebooks worked nearly the same as Howard's mind had, which meant that it made _perfect_ sense to him, but no sense to anyone else. There were mathematical formulas scattered in with descriptions of the werewolf he had killed in New Orleans.

Once, he even found an entry about the anti-nightmare hex bags that Howard had secreted under Tony's pillows when Tony was five years old. Tony had sort of thought his father didn't give a shit, but... guess he cared about _something_ , after all. Tony had read that entry over and over again, and he wasn't sure if he hated his father more for actually caring but never showing it, or if he could reconsider his opinion of his old man after all of that.

Howard had talked about demons _a lot_ , in the books. There were a couple different exorcisms written in there, but there was frustratingly little about this particular set of circumstances. Tony had done the research, he knew that demons congregating in one place was unusual. Very, _very_ unusual. Especially, oddly enough, when only a few people had died. Usually, death started to come in the dozens or even more than that, as though they were out for full on massacres every time they came to the earth. Enjoying their time on the mortal coil, perhaps. There were three dead, now, one body found a day, bodies torn into pieces and the blood gone. He suspected some kind of sacrifice. 

Picking up the leather bound book he had been working his way through last night, Tony frowned at the page.

 _Fury – 281-429-9270. Knows about demons_.

Tony knew that there was probably no way this guy still existed. But it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tony grabbed the shitty phone off the counter – who even used rotary phones, anymore, was this motel _supposed_ to be stuck in the eighties? - and dialed the number, frowning as he braced the handset between his chin and the shoulder. It rang three times, then a gruff man's voice answered, “Lebanon 911. Fire, Police, or Ambulance?”

He blinked, confused, and sat there in silence for a moment. That definitely could _not_ be right.

There was a huff of a sigh on the other end of the line, and the man said, again, “Lebanon 911. Fire, Police, or Ambulance?”

“Um.” Tony cleared his throat, and swallowed. “I must... have the wrong number.”

“You dialed the wrong number for 911?” The man on the other side of the conversation scoffed, sounding infuriatingly smug, and he tightened his hold on the phone. “Who were you tryin' to call?”

“...Fury?” He said, warily.

“Well, you shoulda just _said_ that.” There was a sigh, then the man said, “This is Fury, you got 'im. What can I do you for? And where the hell didja get this number?”

“It was in my father's journal.” Tony hesitated. “His name was Howard Stark.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a long minute, long enough that Tony was pretty sure that Fury had hung up. Instead, what he got was another one of those heavy sighs, then Fury said, “Howard Stark. Now _that's_ a name I ain't heard in a very long time. If he's yer dad, I guess that means _you_ must be Tony. Ain't seen you since you were about six years old, all scrawny little genius. Thought they said you were dead.”

“The rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated.” Tony said, and drew in a slightly unsteady breath. “...so we've met?”

“I wouldn't call it _meeting_ , you were practically half dead in the back of yer dad's car, yer mother and him left you with me while they were taking out a Windigo. Guarantee you remember me.” Fury said, sounding absolutely confident that he was right.

“I doubt I - “

“I got one eye. Yer dad convinced you to stay with me cause he told you I was a pirate.”

Tony's eyes widened. Of course he remembered that man. It had been an insignificant part of his past, but he remembered it clearly, falling asleep in the back of the car, mom saying that they were going on a road trip because of dad's work. They had pulled into the parking lot of a cabin out in the middle of the woods somewhere, and he could dimly remember being scared, thinking that they were going to have to _stay_ there – but then dad had picked him up, and told him that they weren't all going to be staying there, just Tony was. He'd started crying, he thought, though he wasn't really sure, and the door was opened by a man that was well over six feet, bald, dark, and intimidating, with an eye patch over his left eye. Tony vaguely remembered freezing, staring at him in horror, and Howard had told him, like it was a secret, “This is my friend, he's a pirate. You're gonna stay with him tonight, and if you're good, maybe he'll even let you see his parrot.”

Swallowing, Tony said, quietly, “Never did get to see the parrot.”

“You weren't good.” Fury snorted, on the other end of the phone line. “You were a holy terror, until I found some cartoons that shut you up.”

“Surprised you remember that,” Tony smirked, faintly.

“Don't be. So what the hell are you callin' for, then, Tony Stark?”

He shifted  the phone, slightly, trying to make sure if was in a better spot, and said, “You heard anything about demons in Antioch?”

“Course I have. I’m in Lebanon, ain't that far out. 'bout five hours. You mean all those missing people, right?”

“Right.” Tony nodded, even though Fury couldn't see it. “Six people missing, I’ve talked to a lot of witnesses, made sure it's actually demons, can't figure out exactly what to do. I don't know where they might have gone, I can find where they've been, can't figure out where they're going.”

“Didn't yer dad teach you anything?” Fury sounded displeased.

“...no.” He hesitated, scratching his jaw as he settled back against the pillows, swallowing. “No, dad didn't teach me anything. He didn't tell me that any of this was... real. I mean, maybe he was trying to protect me or something, but... no, he didn't tell me anything.”

“...how long you been hunting for, kid?”

“About six months?” Tony admitted. “Find the ghosts are the easiest... just salt and burn and all, and some of the monsters aren't bad, cause once you know how to kill them, you just _kill them_ , but... demons are far more complicated than I expected. Do these exorcisms actually work?”

“They work.” Fury said, then paused a moment before saying, “Well, the _good_ ones do. If it's in yer dad's book, it's probably a good one.”

“Well, that's a good start.” Tony took a deep breath. “Have any idea why a bunch might be gathering in one place?”

“Hn.” There was the sound of movement in the background, then the other man started asking questions that Tony had fortunately prepared for. “Anyone showing up dead? Any of the demons say anything?”

“Three dead, now, and one said 'banner'.”

The other man let out a huff of sound, and continued the movement in the background, until finally, he said, “There were six people missing, right? Six demons, or... three demons and three dead?”

“Six demons, far as I can figure, and three dead.” Tony adjusted the phone, reaching for his own notebook, where he had scrawled his notes. “Yeah... six demons, three dead, no one else is dead, no one else is missing... and the three that are dead were killed about one a day. Found one a day, at least. Ripped apart, all their blood drained out... I been thinking some kind of sacrifices, maybe?”

“Well, that's pretty possible, actually... though the body count is pretty low.” There were the sounds of books hitting tables in the background. “They've been stewin' around in hell for possibly hundreds of years, and someone lets 'em out, finally... what's the first thing they do?”

“Have some fun.” He sighed, shaking his head. “No, that makes perfect sense.”

“But not havin' killed a hell of a lot more... now _that's_ unusual.” He heard typing in the background, and Tony sort of felt like he was talking to tech support or something. There was silence, other than the typing for a long few minutes, then Fury said, “All right. There's some weird weather goin' on... temperature's goin' all wonky. Just on the edges of town, the temperature there is fifteen degrees higher than anywhere else in town.”

“...is it normally like that?” Tony frowned, swinging his legs off of the bed as he stood, picking up the phone itself. It had a long cord, so he could walk further with it. Good, Tony didn't really like sitting still when he was doing anything, he had always been sort of skittish.

“Not far as I can tell.”

“Well then, guess I know where I’m goin'... you got an address for that area?” He asked.

“Yeah. I got one.”

A minute later, as Tony was about to set the phone back down, Fury caught him. “Tony...”

“...yeah?” He paused, frowning.

“Listen... after this is all said and done...”

“Don't be a stranger?” Tony smirked slightly, setting the phone body back on the bedside table, though he still held the phone.

“Forget my number.”

Tony blinked, then laughed. “Yessir.”

Seemed like this man was a lot more like Tony's father than he had expected. Somehow he wasn't actually surprised.

 

\---

 

The area that Fury had directed him to was a quiet little residential area, and nothing looked out of place, as Tony slowly drove his car through the neighbourhood. Actually, come to think of it, the only thing out of place was probably himself, looking like some kind of creeper as he drove through the streets. Awesome.

As he drove, he tried to case the area, figure out where a demon group might congregate. There were a couple houses set back from the street, that would be great places for them to gather. The problem was, how did he figure out which was the one he needed?

There was movement, suddenly, outside one of the houses, and Tony slowed.

A man was heading towards the door – dragging a woman, his arms hooked under her armpits as he tugged  her along, her feet bumping on the ground, her head limp on her chest. Well, that was certainly unusual. He sort of suspected that this was pretty much _not_ normal behaviour, so... well, even if it _wasn't_ demons, he should probably actually check on that anyway.

Tony parked a little up the road, and grabbed his handgun out of his glove compartment. He checked the ammo, then tucked it in his belt, then checked the flask in his inside breast pocket. Mostly full. God, he hoped it was enough.

Darting up the steps with his gun in hand, tucked against the side of his thigh, Tony hid himself along the edge of the door, and peered in through the beveled glass design on the door.

There were six men and women standing in the middle of the room, talking among themselves, and the woman that had been dragged into the house was laying off to the side of the room. It was like they'd dragged her there, and just sort of tossed her off to the side, until they needed her later, maybe. She wasn't bleeding, visibly, but Tony wasn't actually sure that she was breathing, either. The men and women that were gathered in their little loose circle didn't really seem to be nervous, maybe they were confident that no one knew that they were there, and didn't really care who might be there. Well, he figured, why should they care? Six demons in one room? Odds didn't look good for one man with a gun and a small mickey of holy water.

He took a deep breath, swallowed, then darted back down the steps.

Skirting the building, slowly, he worked his way to the backdoor. Peering inside, he saw no one inside the kitchen that this back door opened up into. Testing the door proved that it was locked, but he had a solution for that. Tugging a small black box out of his pocket, he pressed it against the doorknob, and the small computer inside set to work, finding a key that would unlock it. It was sort of cheating, he supposed, not just picking the lock like a proper crook, but Tony figured that if he was a fucking genius, he should _act_ like a goddamn genius.

The door popped open with a soft click, and he shoved his lockpicker back into his pocket before pushing the door finally open.

Slipping into the kitchen, Tony padded as lightly as he could in his boots, hoping that it wasn't one of those creaky kitchen floors. His feet didn't make much sound, thank god, so he crept towards the living room, biting his lip. What were the chances he could perform an exorcism before they realized he was there?

Slim to nil, he figured.

Peering around the edge of the door, his brows narrowed as he realized that there were only two of the demons in the room, now – and the woman they'd dragged in was gone. Shit.

He needed a plan B.

About twenty minutes later, Tony shifted his father's leather bound book for a moment, and glanced at the stairs. He could hear voices upstairs, talking, he was pretty sure the four demons that had left were up there, but he had to take them on however he could. And taking on two at once seemed a hell of a lot smarter than taking on all six. He had memorized his father's exorcisms, he was absolutely sure he had, but Tony didn't really want to chance forgetting something halfway through. He was a man that knew a million things – he just didn't want to forget something he actually needed.

Taking a deep breath, Tony glanced in the living room again, where a middle aged Asian woman and a wiry ginger boy in maybe his late teens were talking – but there was just something about the way that they wore their bodies that didn't seem _right_. Demons were a terrifying thing, really. Monsters that could take over your skin and make you turn into a horrifying shade of yourself, and the only way to get rid of them was an exorcism.

Fuck, he hoped this worked.

Tony took another deep breath, and began to read aloud, trying not to attract their attention until it was too late.

“ _Exorcizamus te, ominis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii_...”

The demons certainly seemed to have noticed that an exorcism was occurring, because the young man was coughing, almost as though gagging on his own tongue, and the woman snarled, eyes bleeding into black.

Tony started speaking faster, trying to talk as fast as he could without actually slurring his words together. He had to get this out as fast as he could manage. “ _Omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica. Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica -_!”

What he _hadn't_ expected was to be thrown across the room, slamming into the wall.

Tony let out a shout of pain, sliding down the wall, landing hard on his hands and knees as he gagged slightly, trying not to throw up. All of his air had been knocked out of him.

“Well, well, what do have here? A little vigilante bitch?”

Fingers fisted in Tony's hair, and his head was jerked up, and he winced as he gaped up at a tall, leggy blond that _definitely_ he would have slept with had she not been, you know, possessed at the moment. Jet black eyes in her beautiful face looked _wrong_ , like someone had marred a beautiful painting. She smirked at the look on his face, and said, calmly, “Or are you a hunter? You certainly don't look like a priest.”

“Don't like little boys enough to be a priest.” Tony panted, trying to catch her off guard.

The demon laughed, then slammed his head against the wall again, and Tony groaned, dizzy and light headed as he tried to keep himself conscious. “Hn. Hunter. And who are you, little hunter?”

“M'not a hunter, I’m just... just a guy.” He panted.

One of the other demons, an older man with greying temples and a face that looked like it should be made for smiling picked up the leather bound book. He recognized the face, easily – that was Keisha's father. Well, Tony wasn't doing such a good job with saving her father for her. Keisha's father – or the demon that was wearing her father, anyway – turned the notebook over in his hands for a few moments, then looked inside for a few moments. Abruptly, he thrusted the notebook towards the blond, and said, “I recognize the handwriting. This is Howard Stark's notebook.”

 _Well, that's awesome_.

The blond grinned, slowly, as she accepted the book. “Howard Stark, hm? Well, _Howard_ is dead. So who is this, then?”

“Geoff Nicholls... I’m not a hunter, I just found the notebooks, and thought I could help...” Tony lied.

She snapped her hand out, striking him across the side of his face, and Tony gagged for a moment before spitting out a mouthful of blood. She had a much harder hit than she looked like she should, but that was demons for you, he supposed. “Howard Stark would never let his notebooks just be _found_.”

Tony swiped at his jaw, swallowing the warm taste of copper. “Maybe he wasn't as good as you think he is. Who was he, anyway?”

The blond shook her head, and abruptly crouched in front of him. Tony tried to back up from her, but her hand snaked out to catch the collar of his shirt, holding him still in place as she did, and she bared her teeth in a broad grin as she considered him for a long moment. Finally, she shook her head, and said, “You have your mother's eyes, Tony.”

“Told you, my name is Geoff.”

“I've met your parents, Tony.” The demon purred. “In fact, your parents sent me to hell the last time I got to run about on earth. Which sort of means I have a thing _against_ your family, you little son of a bitch. Which means I’m _really_ going to enjoy gutting you.”

He licked his lips, then started hissing, fast as he could, “ _Ergo draco maledicte et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te, cessa decipere humanas creaturas -_ “

Tony was thrown across the room again, smashing into the fridge with enough force to actually dent in the front of it, and he gagged as he slumped to the floor, gasping for breath. Struggling to get up onto his hands and knees, he said, _“...eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum_ _propinare_...”

“You just don't give up, do you?” Blondie laughed as she flicked her fingers, and Tony was thrown across the room the other direction, now, head cracking off of one of the shelves. He slumped to the floor, struggling to keep his eyes open. There was warmth running down the back of his neck, now, and Tony was absolutely sure that he'd been seriously injured, but god, he couldn't just die, not like this... He struggled onto his hands and knees, and tried to get out of the room, trying to get to the dining room. “Look at him, crawling like a little _bitch_... what do you say... want some fun before we get to work?”

“Gladly,” another of the demons said, and Tony stumbled as he fought to get into the other room.

“Where does he think he's going, anyway?” Another laughed, as they followed him casually. After all, why did they have to hurry to try and find Tony? He was just staggering around on his knees, bleeding and weak. Disoriented. “There's no way out, in there.”

Tony didn't need a way out.

He slumped against the wall on the other side of the dining room, leaning in the corner, panting as he looked back at the demons as all six walked towards him, grinning.

 _Just a little bit further_...

The blonde was leading the pack, so she was the first one to pull up to a sharp stop, looking confused.

The others stopped dead a moment later, and it was their leader who looked up, slowly, black eyes landing on the symbol that Tony had drawn on the wooden ceiling with a sharpie, copied out of his father's notebook. The blonde demon snarled, and looked sharply back at Tony, teeth bared. “A fucking _Solomon Seal_?!”

He grinned, a bloody macabre looking thing, and started finishing the exorcism, ignoring their roars of fury and anger as the six demons railed against the invisible barriers of the seal. There was no way that Tony should be this lucky, to catch all six in the seal, but at least he had. “ _Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Exorciszamus te, omnis immundus spiritus omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabokica. Ergo draco meldicte et omnis legio diabolica adjujramus te. Cessa decipere humanas creaturas.”_ Tony took a deep breath, and closed his eyes for a moment before he finished. “ _Cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis vnenum propinare. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire te rogamus, audi nos_.”

There was an ungodly howl that made Tony's insides clench tightly, and all six of them poured black smoke from their mouths. It was like vomiting a swarm of bees, and Tony swallowed tightly against the bile that was threatening to rise up his throat as he watched.

Abruptly, all six dropped to the ground like marionettes whose strings had been snipped, and the black smoke seemed to sink straight through the floor, leaving a scorched circle left on the floor, still glowing red in certain places. Tony groaned as he slumped back against the wall, closing his eyes as he panted for a moment, trying to calm himself down, trying to get his hands to stop shaking. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins, making him absolutely skittish.

Finally, though, he stood unsteadily, and moved forward to check the formerly possessed.

They were all still breathing, which was a huge relief, so he steadied himself on the dining room table that he had stood on to draw the Solomon's Seal, a few moments, then headed for the stairs. He had to check on the woman they'd dragged into the house, and the only place he could figure they'd taken her was upstairs.

Sure enough, the third bedroom he checked had that dark haired woman laying on the bed, eyes closed, looking very dead as she lay there.

Tony took a deep breath, then stepped forward to gently touch the girl's neck. “Come on, still be alive...”

Her eyes suddenly snapped open, and Tony yelped, startled.

“Get away from me!” The woman howled, terrified sounding, and scrambled back on the bed, eyes wide as she shook. “Don't touch me!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” He held up his hands. “I'm here to help you! I’ve been trying to save you... wanted to make sure you were okay... what happened to you? Do you feel all right? You need water, or... or anything?”

She panted as she looked at him, chest heaving, then shook her head. “No... no, I’m okay... who are you?”

“Vinny Apice. Who are you?”

She licked her lips, then said, finally, “Destiny Wade. There were – there were some guys, are they still out there...?”

“No.” Tony shook his head, then smiled at her, softly. “I took care of it, we're safe. We're alone now, we can get out of here. Let's, ah, find the police or something, get you to the hospital, make sure you're all right.”

“We're alone?” Destiny asked, licking her lips.

“Yeah, we're okay.”

“Then I suppose you'll have to do,” Destiny said, calmly, and her eyes flickered over to black.

“Son of a bitch,” Tony breathed, and backed up.

She flicked her fingers, almost casually, and Tony slammed against the wall again, swearing as he cracked his head against yet another wall. At this rate, he was going to manage to get himself a concussion. Or worse, knock the smarts out of himself. Or get killed. Getting killed was probably a lot worse. “You're not terribly good at this, are you?”

“No,” Tony spit blood out, again. “I'm not really all that good at this.”

“I can tell.” Destiny and the demon riding her walked up towards him, laying her hands on his chest, considering him. “Though, you _did_ manage to exorcise six of my deputies, which is pretty impressive for someone that's not all that good. I’m starting to think you're lying to me, princess. Who are you, really?”

He shrugged. “I told you. Vinny Apice.”

“Hm.” She considered him for a moment, then suddenly Tony gagged in pain, as he was suddenly slammed harder back into the wall, hard enough that he could feel the wall behind him _breaking_ , shattering around his body, which was being forced into it. The splintered drywall gave way until his back hit the studs, which creaked ominously. He tightened his jaw, trying not to shout, but still she grinned up at him. “Of course, Vinny Apice. You look a lot like a man I killed once. Killed his wife, too... tried to kill his son... got stopped.”

Tony's eyes widened. “What...?”

“I killed your father, Tony fucking Stark. I tore his insides out, and I burned your mother _alive_ , didn't you hear her screaming?”

Tony tightened his jaw, swallowing hard. The official story that had been told to the world was that Howard and Maria Stark had been killed in a car accident. No one except those closest to the Stark family knew what had actually happened, which had been that they were killed in their beds, as they slept. Howard had been gutted, Maria had been burned. And even those that _did_ know about that didn't know about Tony's part in the whole thing.

“You're lying,” he said, his voice shaking slightly. “You're a demon, that's what demons do, you're lying.”

“You were sleeping,” she purred, stepping closer to him. “In your bed, with some stupid doll of that idiot, Captain America, only of course, you were fourteen, you were _way_ too old to sleep with a doll, but there it was, tucked under your arm, and I took you by the throat, but...” Her hand slammed forward, wrapping tightly around his neck, and tightened – then she let out a howl of shock, and bolted back from him, black eyes wide.

The same thing had happened some thirty years before. Not quite exactly, but _very_ similar, similar enough that Tony was convinced immediately that this _was_ the same thing that had killed his parents when he was fourteen.

The force that had been holding Tony abruptly let him go, and he reached in his jacket for his flask of holy water, stepping forward to attack – but before he could, the demon herself had taken a step back, and thrown her head back, letting out a painful sounding howl as black smoke poured from her mouth, escaping out of the window. The woman – Destiny, he supposed, that was the victim's name, not the demon's – dropped to the floor, and Tony trembled slightly, confused.

“Well, that was new.” He breathed.

A door downstairs slammed open, and Tony twisted the cap off of the holy water flask, jaw tight as he headed towards the door, quietly, trying not to make noise.

A man walked through the door, a gun in hand, and Tony flung the holy water in his face.

Only the stranger didn't burn and shriek in pain, he just blinked at Tony for a moment, then reached up to tug his glasses off, shaking some of the water off of them. “...thanks, I really didn't need that.”

Tony backed up, slightly. _Not a demon_.

“Holy water?” The man asked, after a moment, swiping his glasses on his chest, and shoving them back on.

“Ah... of course not. Why would I have holy water?” Tony said, arching a brow.

“Because I assume you're the one that drew the Solomon's seal downstairs, the one that there are _six_ bodies lying under?” He said, and tucked his gun in the back of his belt. “...or you're just _really_ lucky, but...”

“You're Bruce Banner.”

Bruce froze for a moment, looking up at him, then shook his head, forcing his face smooth again. “No, of course not. I don't know who that is.”

“You're Bruce Banner,” Tony said again, grinning slightly as he offered Bruce his hand. “I know you. Or, rather, I know _of_ you, I was a big fan of your work before you went missing. Well, I assume missing, since everyone said you were dead, but since you're here, I assume you're not actually dead. Tony Stark.”

The other slowly shook his hand. “You're also dead.”

“Sounds like a lot of us are doing that whole 'dropping off the planet dead' thing.” Tony smirked. “Last I heard, you were working for the government on that whole super soldier thing... what happened, decided to go kill some monsters instead?”

“Things came up.” Bruce glanced past him into the room, brows furrowed. “...you exorcised them _all_?”

“Yeah, well... demons...”

“Dammit.” Banner ran his hand down his face, taking a deep breath, and shook his head. “I needed... you know, if you just _exorcise_ them, you don't get any information out of them. Did you even think to ask them what they were _doing_ here before you smoked them?”

Tony pursed his lips for a moment, then scooped up his journal off the end of the bed, and shoved it into his jacket pocket. “Thought the important thing was to get them to stop being demons.”

“Well, _yes_ , that is important, but...” Bruce sighed, heavily. “You're bad at this.”

“Hey, I exorcised seven demons.” Tony said, setting his hand on his chest. “I'm _awesome_.”

He snorted. “Yes, you're – Tony?”

Tony didn't understand why exactly the man was saying his name over and over again, but then again, things had sort of gotten whirly and confusing anyway, so maybe that was just a side effect of why he was sagging to his knees, not really able to keep his feet under himself anymore. It took a long moment before he thought he realized what exactly was going on, that the adrenaline that had been keeping himself upright was fading, and the edges of his vision went black before Tony's eyes rolled right back into his head, and he pitched forward onto the floor.

\---

“You are a lightweight.”

Tony slowly opened his eyes, lifting an arm to shield his eyes from over bright sunlight as he blinked up at the speaker, confused. Bruce Banner was in his motel room. What the hell was Bruce Banner doing in his motel room? “...what?”

Bruce shook his head, smirking slightly, and tossed Tony a water bottle. He caught it, and sat up, slowly, wincing. “You're a lightweight, Tony. Feeling all right?”

“Yeah, guess so... what's going on?”

“You passed out. Guess you weren't really so _awesome_ at exorcisms after all.” Bruce smirked, and dug in a pair of paper bags that he had on the little table in the corner, and stepped over to offer Tony a paper wrapped hamburger. Tony grabbed it, gratefully. “So I hauled you back here, used the key out of your pocket to get in here, and tried to make sure you didn't die. After all, you're supposed to be dead, but I’m assuming that you'd prefer not to _become_ dead.”

“True.” Tony agreed, unwrapping the paper, and taking a bite of the burger, gratefully. He groaned a moment later, relaxing. “Sorry, didn't mean to give you any trouble.”

“I've dealt with worse.” Bruce smiled, faintly, sitting at the table.

“I'm not sure that's comforting.” Tony smirked, but kept eating as he relaxed back into the pillows, watching the other man. “So you're a hunter, huh?”

“Hn, yeah.” He nodded, opening his own cheeseburger, taking a bite. “So are you, apparently.”

“Well, I’m not sure I’d consider myself a professional hunter or anything, but yeah, I guess I am.” Tony shrugged, taking another bite. They sat in silence for a few long minutes, then Tony finally said, “What happened to you, Dr. Banner? You had such a great career, I kept hearing the government guys talking about how much progress you were making...”

“They were wrong.” Bruce said, shortly. “And call me Bruce. Dr. Banner is dead.”

“Right then.” He finished off his burger, and tossed the wrapper at the trash bin. It fell directly into it, and he grinned, pumping his fist into the air. “So you're a hunter. Going after demons, then?”

“Trying to figure out what they're doing in this area, yeah.” Bruce nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

Tony glanced at his wall, where he had an array of his research still spread out. “Anything I can help with? I’m good at the research thing.”

“I noticed.” He gestured at the wall of research. “You did a good job.”

“Thanks. So... what's going on?”

Bruce sighed slightly, shaking his head, then leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a little odd, Tony thought, to watch him move, because Bruce acted like he was trying to make himself smaller. He wasn't a huge man, but he still kept trying to make himself less impressive. Less intimidating, maybe. “Look, I don't know everything that's going on, I’m pretty new to the game, too. Only been doing this a couple years.”

“All right,” Tony said, willing to play along. “What's your guarded conclusion, then?” When Bruce looked at him sharply, he grinned, and pointed out, “Hunter or no, once you're a scientist, you're always a scientist. So tell me doctor-that's-not-a-doctor anymore... what conclusions _have_ you reached?”

Bruce sighed, and dug in his own duffle bag for a moment. Tugging out a folded map, he spread it out on the bed between them, letting Tony see that there were red Xs marked over the map, in locations that seemed to have no rhyme or reason. A few of those Xs were circled, but only a sparse few in the midst of perhaps dozens of flagged locations. “There's a pattern I’ve been charting, though it doesn't always make sense. Unusual demon activity in each of these towns, between twenty and twenty-five years ago. First picked up the pattern with the circled ones... circle means that there was a nursery fire there on the night of some child's six month birthday. In a few, the mother or father was killed, in _one_ , the child was killed. Either way, those led me to the pattern at first, then I built a database to check for unusual weather phenomenon or cattle death that coincided with the six month birthday of any child in that town...”

“You used the Turing algorithm?” Tony guessed.

Bruce hesitated, surprised, and glanced at the map. “No, I used a variation of the Wellington... damn, that _would_ have been easier....”

“S'all right, you really always were more into the bioengineering than the electronic engineering.” Tony smirked, nudging the other with his elbow.

“Yes, true...” He drifted off for a moment, then jerked himself back to the present, sliding off his glasses. Folding them up to tuck them in his shirt pocket, Bruce tapped the map. “But as you can see, there are definitely too many cases cropping up for it to be coincidence. Demon presences and six month birthdays... the only problem I have is that I have no idea _why_ demons showed up all these places, and what it means for these kids. In a few of the cases, there has been unusual things reported there since, but...” Bruce shrugged. “No solid proof.”

“You talked to the kids, the families, that whole bit?” Tony asked, curiously.

“Of course I did. The only thing I’ve found in common between all these cases is that three of the people mentioned a man with yellow eyes.”

“...yellow eyes.” Tony frowned, brows furrowed. “Know anything that has yellow eyes?”

“Nothing.” Bruce shook his head. “And it's yellow eyes _and_ demon signs, so...”

“Demons have black eyes.”

“ _Not_ all of them.” He pointed at Tony, then darted back to his bag, tugging a battered looking leather bound book out. “This is an old demonology text, all my research indicates it was written sometime during the sixteen hundreds. This, of course, is a slightly more modern version... printed around the turn of the nineteenth century. There are details on every kind of demon that the author knew how to classify in here... different hierarchy, different classes, demons versus fallen angels, everything. But one thing it says is that not all demons are created equal. There is apparently a class of fallen angels that have white eyes, one named Jezebel apparently has green eyes, and...” He flipped the book towards him, to show him a rough drawing that someone had coloured with paints. The paints themselves had long since faded, but the eyes still glared out at him, a baleful red. “Crossroads demons. The deal makers have red eyes.”

“Yeah, cause _that's_ not ominous at all...” Tony muttered. “So are we saying there's a demon out there with yellow eyes?”

“We're saying it's possible, yeah.” Bruce nodded.

He frowned, considering the drawing of the crossroads demon for another few long moments, then turned back to the map. “So what's the end game, then? What did that demon want?”

“I don't know.”

There was a stamp on the bottom left corner of the map, faded from age and possibly poor quality ink, but it was still there, like the pink elephant in the room, and Tony's fingers brushed over the stamp. Embossed, too. This meant business. This meant this wasn't just a pattern that Bruce had figured out since the US government had deemed him dead and he'd apparently dropped off the grid to start hunting. “So what does the army want with these kids?”

“Nothing.” Bruce said, too quickly, folding the map up with a practiced hand, and tucking it away in his duffle. “Spare map I happened to have.”

“Hm.” Tony nodded, but dropped it. Instead, he said, “The demons were looking for you.”

Bruce nearly dropped his glasses, which he had been in the process of putting back on. He caught them, shoved them on, and blinked owlishly at Tony. “ _What_? The demons were looking for _me_?”

“The daughter of one of the possessed... said the only thing her father said after he black-eyed was 'Banner'. Now, that _could_ be coincidence, but you know as well as I that demons and coincidences don't typically go together. Considering the fact that you _also_ happened to be in town looking into them...” Tony let his sentence trail off, and arched a brow as he looked at Bruce, repeating a question that Clint had posed to him, three days ago. “You got anyone to watch your back?”

“I'll be fine.” Bruce stood, tucking things into his bag.

“Look, I don't know why I’m saying this, because I am _lousy_ at working with other people, but... you wanna work together on this thing?”

Bruce smiled crookedly at him. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not always... _easy_ , to work with. It's just safer for everyone if we don't.”

Tony shrugged. “No harm in asking.”

“Look, ah... give me your number.” He fumbled in his pocket for a moment, then thrust his phone towards Tony. “If I ever need help or anything, I’ll... I’ll let you know.”

“Done.” His fingers flew across the keys, then handed it back. “I've got yours, too.”

“How...” Bruce blinked.

“I _designed_ your phone.” Tony grinned. “Trust me. Nice to see you again, Bruce. It isn't every day I get to run into another presumed dead genius.” He smirked. “Take care of yourself.”

“Same.” He shook Tony's hand, firmly, then tossed his bag over his shoulder, and left.

Tony waited about fifteen seconds after Bruce was gone, then scrambled for his own map, grabbing a marker to flag all of the locations he'd just memorized off of the other's map.

\---

The phone was ringing.

Tony would greatly appreciate if it would _stop_ doing that, thank you very much, because he'd just wasted a kappa that had been misplaced by a well-intentioned Japanese garden project last month, and had taken to luring people into its ornamental koi pond. Turned out that kappas were a mischievous frigging bunch, so anyone that had entered said koi pond suddenly found themselves being dragged underwater in what _looked_ like the Pacific. Tony had spent far more time in the water than was probably strictly necessary, had to perform CPR on an ungrateful fifteen year old, and had gotten covered in kappa blood. They were, as it turned out, disgusting little black blooded beasts. He'd tumbled into bed late and drunk. And phone calls before the sun was even up did _not_ make him happy.

Still, he reached his arm out, blindly, finally grabbing his still fucking ringing cell off of the bedside table, and answered it, blearily. “Hello?”

“Stark.”

He blinked for a few moments, trying to figure out who in the world would associate this number with that name, then bolted up in bed. “ _Fury_?”

“Don't have to sound so glad to hear from me.” Fury said, sarcastically.

“...you told me to forget your number.”

“Never said I had to forget yours. Where you at?” Fury said, all business like, not seeming to care that it was before the ass-crack of dawn.

“South Dakota,” he groaned slightly, sitting up, finally. “Why do you care?”

“Get to Kansas.”

“ _Again_?!” He groaned, deeply.

“Yeah, well... trust me, I wouldn't be callin' you if I didn't need you here.” Fury said, sharply. “Get yer ass to Kansas, Stark.”

“...fine.” Tony grumbled, and rolled out of bed.

“I'll text you the directions... yer one of those idiots glued to their phones, right? Just get yer ass in gear.”

“You want me there in such a damn hurry, get me a plane.” He ran his hand through his hair, and slid out of the bed. “You seem like a man with connections, get me a damn jet or a helicopter or a hover plane carrier or something... I’d be much faster if I got to fly on a fucking hovering plan carrier, you know. So... get on that, then.”

Fury scoffed. “Just _get here_ , you idiot.”

“Fine. Getting.”

Tony did take the time to get showered and stop by a diner for pancakes and sausages, and when he finally pulled into the lot that Google-maps had told him was Fury's place, he was sipping on his third styrofoam cup of coffee of the day. He wasn't sure what exactly he should be expecting – thought maybe he'd see six foot high fences with barbed wire on top, or attack dogs, or maybe a junkyard full of the corpses of a thousand dead cars. What he actually found, however, was a non-descript brick building that reminded him of every professional building he'd ever seen, the only windows were high up and small so that they were hard to get through – secure but understated – and the windows were dark. Hell, it looked clean but mostly abandoned, as though there was simply no one there. He pulled his car into the little cracked asphalt parking lot, beside a gray sedan that didn't look more attention grabbing than the building itself, and stepped out of the car.

Hip checking the door closed, he sipped at his coffee again, then did the standard check of his pockets – key, cell phone, wallet, gun, knife, holy water, chalk... yeah, good to go.

Walking up to the front door of the little building, he looked around for some kind of sign, some sort of symbol that it was actually his destination. Yeah, sure, Fury had said that this was where he was supposed to come, but he wasn't sure he trusted him. After all, _he_ remembered a cabin in the woods, as a child, he didn't remember anything like this. Lifting his hand, though, he knocked firmly on the door, frowning slightly.

There was a slight _whirr_ , and he lifted his head to realize that there was a security camera tucked up in the corner, just over the alcove the front door stood in. Well then – not quite as abandoned as it seemed.

Tony lifted a hand, and waved.

There was another hum, then a click, and the door swung open, slowly.

“Well, _that's_ not ominous at all,” he muttered, and headed inside, still cradling his coffee in his hand. It was about the best weapon he had – it kept him awake, and if necessary, it made an excellent throwing-in-the-face deterrent.

The inside of the building was as nondescript as the outside – at first, at least. Then he stepped out into a larger room, and everything changed.

There were computer screens everywhere, it seemed like. There was an oval in the centre of the room, of metal stands that held up dozens of monitors, so that presumably a person could sit in the middle of the oval and just sort of turn in a circle, and have a monitor facing them at every direction. There were bookshelves lining the rest of the walls, stuffed to overflowing capacity with books and notebooks and papers that seemed to be completely without order – but every once in awhile there would be a little white label on the shelf, which told Tony that there was, in fact, organization. A rough version of the Dewey Decimal, maybe, he figured. The room was dark, except for some filtered sunlight that came in through one of the windows – a window with a massive symbol that Tony vaguely recalled painted on the glass – and from the monitors, which were glowing coldly blue in the darkness. As he stepped further into the room, he realized that there was a man standing at the far back of the room, a shotgun cradled over his arm, smirking at him, slightly.

He hadn't aged a day, from Tony's remembrance of him. Looked _exactly_ the same, right down to the eyepatch.

“Well then, Fury... you invited _me_ , yet I’m being threatened with the guns?” He arched a brow, and sipped at his coffee, casually. Maybe he shouldn't be so used to having guns pointed at him.

Fury shrugged, and nodded at the table in front of Tony. “Run through the tests.”

Tony glanced at the table, and groaned. “Seriously? Holy water, silver, devil's trap... wow, Fury, you are one paranoid son of a bitch. Fine.”

A few minutes, a shot of holy water, a slice of a silver knife on his arm, and a crossing over a devil's trap later, Fury finally lowered his gun, and nodded at him. “All right, well, I had to check. Wasn't about to let some demon into my house.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “So what was the emergency that had you calling me down here?”

“There's a string of deaths in Massachusetts.” Fury said, frowning.

“So how come you didn't just send me to _Massachusetts_?” Tony blinked, brows furrowed.

“Because I needed to talk to you.” The other man answered, as he rounded the oval of computers, and stepped into another room. It looked like it had been an office at one point, but it had been turned into a bit of a kitchen, now. There was a stove, a fridge, a sink, all the typical things a kitchen had, but there was also an entire wall of guns, and on the opposite wall, about twenty or so phones were hanging there, each with a neat label that said exactly which line they were. “And I needed to give you something.”

Tony snickered. “You don't seem the gift giving type.”

“I ain't.” He agreed, and dug in one of the drawers for a moment, before finally offering Tony a wooden cigar box.

He took it, frowning slightly, and flicked it open. “...seriously, Fury, is this supposed to be a joke?”

“It's not a joke.” Fury said, calmly.

“...you gave me a box of nails.” Tony said, huffing slightly, and drained the last of his coffee before tossing the styrofoam cup into the garbage, and brandishing the box of nails at Fury. “Seriously, it's a box of fucking nails. Now, before they start finding themselves in your tires... you wanna tell me why exactly you've given me a box of _nails_?”

“Because you're going to hunt down a witch.”

Tony looked up, sharply. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Fury said, calmly, looking remarkably unphased by the gaping expression that Tony was giving him, looking utterly confused. He simply opened the door of the fridge, leaned in, and tugged out a bottle of something that he cracked the cap off of and took a long swig of. “Mmm. You're going to be hunting a witch, Stark. A good, old fashioned, warts and broom, probably got a damn cauldron, witch.”

“...aren't witches just humans?”

“Sure, once upon a time. But they're humans that sell their souls for unnatural and unholy powers, and... they ain't good news.” Fury shook his head, and nodded at the box that Tony still held. “Those are iron nails. Guaranteed, 100% iron. The real deal.”

“Yeah, I... I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with iron nails.” Tony admitted, frowning at them. “Aren't witches just people with demon deals? You gank the demon, the person has no powers.”

“They're assholes who have sold their damn _souls_ , Stark, they're not 'just people'. They're monsters. And even if you exorcise the demon, the human's still got their powers, and their soul's still being twisted into some seriously fucked up shit. They may technically be human, but they are just as damn evil as anything else out there that you have ever hunted. There is no such thing as a 'good witch', so get yer head out of the Disney mindset and start looking at reality. There is a witch in Washington that is killing people. So you need to go kill it.”

He swallowed, considering that. “Just kill a human.”

“No, you don't _just_ kill it, that's where the nails come in.” Fury shrugged, and took another swig of his beer. “You need to kill it, then drive an iron nail into its forehead, neck, and chest. S'only way to make sure that a witch can't come back.”

Tony grimaced. “Do they often?”

“Not so much as they used to, no.” He considered that, then shrugged. “Still, better than it used to be. Besides the nails keeps 'em from ending up in hell as yet another damn demon, so really, yer doin' the human they used to be a favour, too. So if that makes you feel less... _guilty_...” Fury shook his head. “You younger hunters, all touchy and damn feely.”

He sighed, snapping the box of nails shut, and tucking it into the inside of his jacket. “Right, so I’m supposed to go to track down a witch, and kill her, then.”

“Don’t assume it’s a woman.” Fury said. “Could be a man, too, witch ain’t gender specific.”

“I thought male witches were called Warlocks.”

“And they say you’re supposed to be a genius.” Fury laughed, shaking his head. “A warlock is a witch that’s betrayed its coven. A witch is just a witch. And unless this one happens to be both a witch _and_ a warlock, then you’re just looking for a witch. So track them down, shoot ‘em or whatever you have to do, to get them down, then nail ‘em.”

“Pleasant imagery,” he smirked, hooking his thumbs in his pockets as he considered the other man. He’d expected an old man, had expected that the grizzled pirate he’d been afraid of as a child would be old and grey now. Only Fury wasn’t – hell, he didn’t look much older than him, right now. Odd. “So how do you know it’s a witch, then? Are there signs I can look for, like with demons? You know, in case this ever happens again. I want to try and track them, if I ever see those signs again.”

Fury frowned slightly, and drained his beer. “No, there really ain’t signs. Not ‘less you notice demon things, but… usually it’s just the types of deaths.”

“What do the deaths look like? What should I be looking for?”

“…why are you so interested? I already know it’s a demon, seriously, you can trust me. I know my shit.” Fury said, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m a researcher, Fury.” Tony grinned. “Scientist first, hunter second, remember?”

“Mm, good point. Worse than yer damn father.” He shook his head, and stepped past Tony into the living room, heading for the bookshelves that surrounded the room, reaching up to tug one of the large books off of the shelf. He thumped it down onto one of the other tables, and motioned for Tony to step closer. He did, almost leaning on the other’s side as Fury flipped through the pages. “All right, look, this is an old witch hunter’s manual. Witch’s Hammer. There are a lot of things that can indicate death by witch. Killed by swarms of spiders, burned alive from the inside out, teeth falling out, hair falling out, being found with their stomach full of pins, that sort of thing. Invasive deaths that don’t actually need the witches to be there at the time. And they’re usually personal.”

“Personal?” Tony glanced at him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, frowning slightly. “Witches don’t really just kill people cause it’s fun. They do it because they want something, or they need something, or they’ve been pissed off and they want revenge. They’re selfish, usually. They want power, money… everything. And they’re angry enough to fight to get it.”

“Awesome.” He crinkled his nose slightly, frowning as he considered that. “So how do they do it?”

“Hex bags.” Fury flicked through the book for a few moments, then tapped one of the other pages, one that was filled with lists of ingredients, like nettles and rabbit’s teeth.

“My dad used to use hex bags…”

“Well, not all hex bags are bad,” the older man frowned slightly, tapping the page again. “Sometimes they’re good, or just downright useful. And you don’t have to be a witch to _make_ a hex bag. Problem is, there gets a point where you need _power_ behind them. Now, say I were making a hex bag that would make you invisible to demons.”

“Woah, wait… that sort of thing is possible?” Tony demanded, leaning forward.

“Sure, it’s _possible_ , it just ain’t exactly normal.” Fury smirked. “Say I was. If I was smart, I’d use something powerful to keep the magic in the bag workin’. Salt’s a good one, cause it pretty much can’t be touched by evil, and plants are often good, cause they got a lot of power behind them. But when a real witch makes a hex bag to attack someone, or watch them, or cause ‘em nightmares, or whatever they’re trying to do, they don’t need a power source. They have one, already – it’s the powers that the demons have given them. They’re strong, too… and angry. That’s something witches always seem to have goin’ for them. They’re _angry_. The angrier they get, the more they end up slipping away from whatever humanity they had before they sold their souls.”

“So they’re not really human anymore?”

“Well, they _look_ human.” Fury shrugged, flicking through the pages of the book. “They act pretty human, most of the time. They’ll tell you they’re human, and they’ll act perfectly human. Watch out, they’ll often cry, or beg, or act like normal people, but you can’t be fooled, you gotta kill ‘em anyway.”

“You sure they can’t be saved?” Tony frowned slightly, concerned by this.

“They can’t be saved. They’ve sold their _souls_ , Stark, they’re monsters. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Right.” He frowned slightly, and nodded. “Right then.”

 

\---

 

Tony leaned on the front of his car, the darkness wrapping itself around him like a velvety blanket, curled around his shoulders. It might be a little depressing to be drinking by himself on the side of the road in the middle of New England, but dammit, he had to do _something_.

He sighed, scrubbing his face with his hand for a moment, then dug in his pocket for his phone.

 _Pepper_ was speed dial number one, but he couldn’t call Pepper. He could imagine her, this time of night she’d be curled up on her couch with a quilt wrapped around her, probably reading through meeting notes as she sipped at a glass of wine, relaxed and calm as she prepared herself for the next day. She was strong – much stronger than he would have been, in her situation. He’d watched her speech, the one from his memorial (can’t really have a proper funeral without a body, but there had been a memorial back in New York, after he’d been officially declared dead in Afghanistan) when it had been on television, and he remembered thinking that it was one of the best speeches he’d ever heard. There had been on speech writers involved in that, Pepper’s own mannerisms had been pressed all over that litany. Then she’d taken over his company for him, with Obie, and he wished he could call Pepper back and just tell her he was _alive_ , but it was better for her to believe he was dead.

 _Obie_ was next, but that was the same situation. Well, not _quite_ the same situation, but… god. Obie better fucking not hurt his Pepper, demon or no.

It was agony, leaving the man he knew was possessed by a demon in his building, to take care of the only woman he’d really ever loved, but Pepper was surrounded by people that would protect her, that could keep her safe. Obie didn’t care about Pepper, anyway, he had wanted to kill Tony. That had been made abundantly clear, in Afghanistan. It wasn’t about Pepper.

Pepper was safe.

She had to be safe. He knew she had to be safe.

After all, she had Rhodey there, with her, and Rhodey would keep her safe. After all, Rhodey was the one that had kept him safe, when he was fourteen. He knew that his oldest friend would keep his dear Pepper safe, because Tony had asked him to, before he’d gone to see that miracle, and that, as far as his best friend was concerned, had been Tony’s dying request.

He scrolled through his phone for a few more moments, trying to get past everything in there, until he finally reached Bruce Banner. He really ought to put these in alphabetical order, instead of trying to force them into this ridiculous network of importance that he had managed to keep them in, at the moment.

He dialed Bruce, frowning as he held it up to his ear, waiting.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up, pick up, pick – Bruce, god, thank god you picked up. You free?”

“I’m sleeping, actually.” Bruce sighed.

“Excellent, that means you’re free.” He sighed softly, clearly relieved, and leaned back on the hood. “Bruce… listen, you ever hunted witches before?”

“…once or twice.” The other man said, and he could hear movement in the background – the distinctive click and crunch of someone putting coffee in the filter of a coffee machine, then the click-hum of the machine starting to brew in the background. “Yeah, I’ve had to hunt witches before, they’re tricky, since they’re just human.”

“ _Are_ they?” He demanded.

“Ah… yeah, they’re human. Just people that have made a deal with the devil, metaphorically.” Bruce finally said, a little confused. “…why do you ask, Tony?”

“…a friend said they’re too far gone, they need to be killed. Iron nails.”

The other man whistled, and Tony listened to the other moving around in the background, metal clinking on glass. “Well, sometimes they _are_ too far gone, but I usually work on a case by case basis, because some witches are just people… you can deal with people. But sometimes… yeah, sometimes they’re a mess. Some of them get really damn _evil_. So yeah, sometimes you _do_ need to just kill ‘em, but if you’re needing to go full on iron nails on them… yeah, they must be pretty bad. What’re they doing?”

“Killing people.”

“Well, just because they’re killing people doesn’t _necessarily_ mean they deserve to die…” Bruce said, slowly, and he could hear the debate in the other’s voice. “Damn, okay… where did you say you were?”

“Didn’t say. But I’m in Massachusetts.”

“Hn. You’re awfully far away,” he muttered, slightly.

“Doesn’t matter, you don’t have to come, I’m just… I guess I just sort of wanted a second opinion. This is my first witch case,” Tony laughed, shaking his head. “Basically, I focus on demons. Well, and sometimes I hunt ghosts and all that, but…”

“Yeah. I focus on demons too.” Bruce said, and there was a slight laugh from the other. “So what’s the story? If I’m to be your second opinion, I really need the whole story.”

“Of course you do,” Tony snickered. “Doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah, forget about that. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Right. So… a little over six months ago, a kid was found dead in his car, out at a student party that was being held, you know, a lot of underaged drinking, probably some drugs. Regular teenaged kids doing their thing. Well, the guy was in the driver’s seat, still, but he was very dead. White eyes, I asked the coroner, they decided that he was suffocated somehow, but there was nothing there that could have suffocated him. But… his _car_ is still in impound, because it’s still considered evidence.”

“And?” Bruce asked.

“And there was a hex bag in his glove compartment, shoved back in the wiring for the fuse panel. Hidden.”

“So the kid was killed by a witch.” He murmured.

“Exactly,” Tony said. “And according to the cops, they found another student’s ID in the back seat of the car. So naturally, I asked who the student was… guess what?”

“That kid’s dead too?”

“No, even better… a little over a week after that party where that kid was found dead, the owner of the student ID went missing. One of his classmates said that the last place he’d seen ID kid was in a barn… a barn that _used_ to be owned by the Putnum family.”

There was a moment of silence, then Bruce suddenly said, “Wasn’t that the name of the main character in _The Crucible_?”

“Ding ding ding, tell ‘em what he’s won, Johnny.” Tony slapped his palm down on the hood of his car, which rang loudly in the silence of the night on that quiet road. “Arthur Miller has, in fact, written about this family.”

“That play was about Salem and the witch trials…” There was the sound of coffee being poured in the background. _Lucky_. “I don’t know a lot about the actual witch trials, just what I’ve heard from pop culture and plays, and all that. Do you think that this kid’s disappearance has something to do with the actual Salem witch trial witches? Like, the fact that it was the Putnum barn?”

“Well… the barn burned down that night.” Tony explained. “I talked to some of the fire fighters that had responded to the scene… there was another kid there, asking if they found anything in the ashes. Same kid that apparently say him last.”

“Well then.” Bruce said, finally. “Sounds like you need to talk to _that_ kid.”

“I did.” He sighed, pursing his lips. “…that’s why I called you.”

“…okay…?”

“Look, I’ve been told to kill the witches, right? So I went to the town to try and find the witches. There are four of them.”

“Oh. Well… just keep them separate, when you’re hunting them down, they’re going to be insanely powerful when they’re together, but…”

“They’re teenagers, Bruce.”

Bruce hesitated again, and there was silence on the phone line for a moment. “Oh. Well… that’s going to make it considerably more difficult, but… if they’re killing people…”

“They aren’t.”

“I’m sorry? Didn’t you just say…”

Tony huffed, and pushed off of the front of the car, pacing back and forth across the road as he talked, shoving his free hand in his pocket, frowning. “I said that people are dying in Massachusetts and that it’s witches that are killing the people. But it’s _not_ the four witches that I’ve tracked down. Turns out there was a covenant here, once upon a time… I guess the witch trials didn’t actually manage to root out all the witches, because there are a bunch here, and this kid that went missing… I think he’s the one doing the actual killing.”

“Oh. Well, he’s gone missing, though, so you should be fine, right?”

“I think he’s back. No one’s actually _seen_ him, but all of a sudden people are dying again, I found some hex bags at the scenes of the death… and the four witches I found are freaking the fuck out.” Tony explained. “They think he’s coming to kill them.”

Bruce was silent, then finally said, “So… the question is, do you just kill all five witches, or do you save four witches by killing the one that’s trying to get after them.”

“Exactly.” Tony murmured.

“…that is one of the weirdest questions I’ve ever been asked.” Bruce admitted.

“It’s one of the weirder ones I’ve asked,” he laughed.

“Well… you’re sure these kids really aren’t evil? I mean… just to make sure, right? There’s no chance they’re involved in the deaths or anything?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted, finally. “I don’t know if there’s any way to prove that they aren’t…”

“Maybe you _should_ err on the side of caution, then.”

“God.” Tony groaned, running  his hand through his hair. “I can’t drive a nail through a kid’s face, Bruce. If you think _you_ can, feel free to come on down to Ipswich and shove a nail through their faces.”

“…I’m not sure I could do that.”

“You see my problem.” Tony said, grimly.

“The problem _with_ your problem is that monsters like to look like things that you don’t want to hunt.” Bruce said, at last, and Tony gripped the phone a little tighter. “There are monsters that look like children, and monsters that look like pets, and demons can possess your family members, and vampires could turn your best friends… the monsters _want_ to make themselves into something that you won’t hurt. That’s their defense mechanism. So maybe… maybe the witches are just like that. They look like your regular ordinary teenagers because you wouldn’t _kill_ a regular ordinary teenager.”

“God, way to make me feel like some kind of serial killer, Bruce.”

“Sorry.” He said, only he didn’t really sound all that sorry, at all. “It’s just that we have to think of these sorts of things, I guess.”

“…I don’t want to kill these kids, Bruce.” He murmured.

“Yeah, no… I can’t really blame you.” Bruce admitted, clearing his throat.

“I’m not going to do it.” He declared.

“Good.”

 

\---

 

There was a strange pattern popping up in Philadelphia – women kept going missing from inside their locked apartment in a new building. Seemed a little odd to him, so Tony figured he would check it out. Could be nothing, but he sort of doubted it.

So he claimed to be interested in an apartment, got entry to the building, and popped the lock on the most missing girl’s apartment door to check it out.

Nice place, really. Fully furnished, sort of had an industrial chic look to it, which he could appreciate, was probably the kind of place that could make a lot of money.

You know, as long as the tenants stopped disappearing.

Tony’s EMF kept going off, but he couldn’t really pinpoint a source – until he went to flick the lights on. Black ectoplasm still slowly oozed from the open electrical panel, and despite a sudden desire to burst out in a chorus of ‘who you gonna call?’, Tony knew this was a bad sign. Only those spirits that were really seriously angrily pissed off were strong enough for this kind of shit.

Well, now he knew at least what _kind_ of thing he was looking for…

A few minutes later, Tony was heading at a rapid clip down the stairs, fingers curled around a glass vial with a sample of the ectoplasm, deep in his pocket. He was never going to give up an opportunity for research. As he hurried down the steps to the street, his shoulders bumped with the arm of another man heading up. The dark floppy haired man looked startled, and tried to apologize as his shorter (Shorter? Ha! Bastard was still stupidly tall!) companion snickered.

“My fault, too much of a hurry.” Tony said, holding up his empty hand to indicate ‘no harm, no foul’, and hurried on.

Of course, as he did, he did hear the dim echo of the word ‘familiar’ being passed between the men, and Tony internally cursed. He really needed to do something about the fact that every frigging Tom, Dick, and Harry he met was pretty sure they’d just had a celebrity sighting.

Maybe he should let his goatee grow into a full on beard. He could be some kind of mountain man.

Yeah, right.

As he hurried down the street, boots making a dull sound on the sidewalk each time they hit, he paused outside a small pawn shop, surprised. The windows were full of a thousands bits of bric of brac, flotsam and jetsam, dinglehoppers and – all right, Tony clearly knew too many words for tchotchkes. Still, once he looked beyond the bits and the bobs, there was a familiar man on the customer side of the Pawn Shop’s counter, speaking to the owner. Bruce looked almost skittish, despite his nice suit and official looking ID he flashed the man. Tony was reminded of lab rats he’d seen once in a study for treating withdrawl symptoms. Skittish and jittery, pale with dark circles under his eyes. Tony briefly entertained the thought of Bruce flicking a tail irritably like those rats had, then just smirked at the idea and grabbed the door, tugging it open as he stepped inside.

A bell rang over the door as he did, and both men looked up. Shopkeeper looked mildly curious. Bruce looked absolutely gobsmacked.

Tony grinned. “You beat me here, Agent.”

Bruce cleared his throat, and straightened his spine, trying to get back into character. “Because you’re always terribly _slow_ , Agent Hawking. You’re also out of uniform.”

Leaning on the counter, Tony gave the cashier a cheeky grin, and said, “Gotta love how ties are apparently a uniform. My partner here takes his job very seriously, don’t you big guy?”

“Agent _Curie_ ,” Bruce said, grimly, as though reminding him of an old argument. It really just told Tony the cover name.

“Sure. Agent Howard Hawking, you’ve already met my partner,” Tony flashed his fake ID too fast for the man to actually have time to check to see that the name was wrong, but not fast enough that the guy could see that he _was_ trying to hide it. “Just continue, won’t you?”

“Well, uh… yeah, well, as I was saying… the guy…” The cashier started.

“The man with the yellow eyes.” Bruce prompted.

Tony glanced at the other hunter out of the corner of his eye. So Bruce _wasn’t_ here about the missing women? He just _happened_ to be in the same town, at the same time, trying to find more of those kids that had seen this yellow eyed man, or demon, or whatever he was? Sounded a little fishy, but okay, he could accept that there were coincidences in this world… screw that, no, Tony couldn’t accept that there were coincidences. He didn’t believe in coincidences. No such thing, as far as he was concerned.

“Yeah, the guy with the yellow eyes. Think maybe he had jaundice, or something? That makes you yellow, don’t it?” The cashier frowned, and Tony fought the desire to roll his eyes.

“It’s possible.” Bruce said, calmly.

“Right, well… yeah, dude showed up, in my _apartment_ , and I checked everything, I don’t think he broke in or anything, everything was still all locked up and everything…” The young man frowned, crossing his arms on the edge of the counter as he leaned forward, looking back and forth between the pair of them. “Anyway, so he shows up in my house, and starts telling me that he has a _plan_ for me, and for the other kids like me, whatever _that_ means, and then he’s all… telling me about all the things I could have if I just listened to him… like, he was talking about ruling the world and shit. I half expected him to pull some ‘I am your father’ thing or something, because… yeah. That sounded like a creepy dad thing. Anyway, so yeah… he kept trying to get me to do stuff…”

“What kind of stuff?” Tony interrupted, and ignored the other hunter’s sharp look.

“How to light fires with my brain.”

Tony blinked. That was absolutely _not_ what he had expected to hear. He frowned for a moment, then turned to look at Bruce, seriously, arching a brow. Bruce looked _less_ surprised by this statement than Tony felt, but he still didn’t look exactly like he had _expected_ that.

“I’m _not_ crazy,” the cashier said again, frowning. “He wanted me to light fires with my brain. Like, seriously, he said that I could do it, if I focused on it…”

“Did he tell you _how_ to focus on that?” Bruce asked, leaning slightly on the counter.

The cashier hesitated, looking back and forth between the two. “Okay, look, I’m not like, a conspiracy theorist or anything, but I’m not going to be like… locked up in Area 51 because of this, or something, am I? like… I know that’s all bullshit and stuff, but… I mean, it _is_ bullshit, right? You’re not gonna like… drag me off for experimentation or anything, are you…?”

“Of course not.” Bruce said, easily.

“Area 51’s just for aliens, anyway.” Tony smirked. “Forget I said that, though, or I _will_ have to erase your memory.”

The cashier squeaked slightly, and nodded, quickly. “Yeah, yeah, of course!”

Bruce glared at Tony.

He ignored him.

“So…” Tony prompted. “Did the man with the yellow eyes teach you how to make fire with your brain?”

The young man swallowed, and shifted so that he stood up straighter. As though bracing himself, he looked back and forth between the two would-be-FBI-agent’s, then stepped back. He glanced at the window for a moment, checking to make sure that there was no one walking by outside, then held up his hands. He licked his lips for a moment, then cupped his hands, nervously.

Bruce and Tony both stood there, in silence, watching him.

Smiling awkwardly, the kid bit his lip, then looked down at his hands. There was silence for a moment as they waited, then, for just a moment, there was a flicker of light emanating from inside the young man’s cupped hands. His eyes lit up, and he grinned at them as he slowly opened his hands like a blooming flower, exposing a flame that was rapidly getting larger, burning in the centre of his hands but fed by absolutely nothing. The cashier’s grin spoke of pride and joy, because it was _working_ , and the look on his face said, clearly that he’d never done this with _witnesses_ before. “Yeah! This is what it looks like – the guy said I could do it, he was right!”

“…damn.” Tony breathed.

“Right, extinguish the flames, if you will?” Bruce said, firmly, and nodded at him.

The young man hesitated, then nodded, and cut the flames off. They just sort of dissipated in a whiff of smoke, and the young guy was left standing there, looking a little sheepish.

“All right then, Agent Hawking…” Bruce abruptly handed Tony a small black and metal case. That was an EMF. What? “Get a complete sweep of the place, if you will, while I get the blood sample?”

Tony arched a brow.

“… _blood sample_?” The kid squeaked.

“Well, it’s either a small blood sample now, Jeremy – “ The kid had a name? Go figure, Tony _probably_ should have anticipated that, but it was still the sort of thing that hadn’t actually mattered all that much to him, come to think of it. “ – or we have to haul you in to FBI headquarters to give you an intensive physical.”

Jeremy’s eyes widened, alarmed. “No, ah… blood sample is okay.”

“That’s what I thought.” Bruce nodded, and glanced over at Tony. “Run the round of the store, will you?”

“Meet you back here in five, Agent Curie?” Tony smirked slightly.

“Of course.” He said, calmly.

He arched his brow, and patted Bruce’s shoulder, and the kid gave him a sympathetic look. Yeah, that’s right, he was cool, and if he’d _really_ had an asshole partner like Bruce, he’d have probably gone a little nuts.

Tony shook his head, and headed off through the aisles of the little pawn shop, which was just as cluttered as that window had been. It wasn’t really like any pawn shops he’d ever seen before, it was more like a jumble or junk shop, bits and pieces everywhere, as though someone had just tried to shove anything and everything that they had found over the years onto one place and tried to get rid of them. From the layers of dust that had formed on some of the items, he was pretty damn sure that most of this stuff didn’t _sell_ , either. Once he was out of eyesight of the clerk, he flicked the EMF detector on, and sort of held it close to the shelves as he walked. He didn’t expect to find anything with it, but at least he was looking, right?

He let the little EMF detector trail over the shelves, and hesitated when the little red lights flared.

Backing up, he let it skim over the shelf again. There was a black and gold lacquer box that looked a little like it was a kitschy touristy version of a Chinese design, with a little design worked into the top that looked a little like a woman sitting under a tree.

And yeah, every time he passed the EMF detector over it, it flared again.

 _Interesting_.

He picked up the little box, and headed back towards the front of the shop. The cashier stood behind the counter, his left arm bent up at the elbow, brows furrowed as he pouted slightly. He looked up when Tony came closer, eyes landing on the little box. “Oh… is there something wrong with the box? I mean, uh… nothing’s wrong with the box, of course, I mean, but… ah… you want the box?”

Bruce was nowhere in sight. Interesting.

“Where’d you get this from?” He asked, calmly, focusing on that instead of Bruce and his apparent disappearing act, fuck you very much, Bruce.

“Ah… I think someone brought it in, lemme check the chips…”

Jeremy darted off to the side, and started to dig through a thick file folder, trying to find where the little black box had come from. Tony leaned on the counter, and peered out the front plate window, trying to see if he could spot Bruce, but not only was the other man apparently long gone, but he didn’t even see the car he’d spotted the other in, last time. Awesome, he’d just been ditched. He was _not_ some asshole’s prom date. He was Tony fucking _Stark_.

“It was brought here about a month ago,” Jeremy said, suddenly, brandishing a little piece of paper at him. “It was sold to us by someone named… oh… Ivan Peter Freelie…”

Tony arched a brow. “I. P. Freelie brought in an item for sale?”

“Well… the name’s not really all that important, if they’re just selling, not pawning…” Jeremy said, clearing his throat, flushed.

“Well, I need to confiscate it. I have reason to believe that it’s part of a case that myself and my partner have been working on.” Tony said, and tucked it under his arm, ignoring the kid’s expression of surprise and horror. “Speaking of… where has my partner gone to?”

“Oh, ah… he said he was going to go back to the office, said he’d meet you there. Um… is the FBI going to reimburse me for the box, or…?”

Tony reached over to snag one of the business cards off of the counter, and half saluted the other with it before he shoved it into his pocket. “Of course, I’ll make sure they send you a check. You will be adequately compensated for helping your country. Now, have a great day, Jeremy, and thank you for your cooperation.”

“Right.” Jeremy nodded, then as Tony headed for the door, he yelped, “Oh, hey, wait!”

Tony doubled back. “Yes?”

“Your partner was in such a hurry, I forgot to mention… ah… the yellow eyed man? He said something else… about the other kids like me. He said that he was making an _army_ , and that I was going to be a general or something. Does that make any sense to you? I mean, is this guy from like… some country that’s trying to declare war on the States or something, or…?”

“We’ll let you know, if something new comes up.” He said, then pointed at the kid. “Under no circumstances are you permitted to tell anyone about this, you understand? If you do, there _will_ be men in black, and you _will_ become intimately acquainted with what Area 52 is like.”

“…Area 52?” Jeremy squeaked.

“Area 51 is for the aliens. Area 52 is for the psychics.”

His eyes widened, dramatically. “Yes, sir!”

Tony had never really liked being called ‘sir’, before, it made him feel really old, but damn, when he was trying to be an FBI agent, he decided he liked being called ‘sir’, kinda made him feel confident and self-assured. Damn, he needed to try this being a government agent thing more often. “You’re a good kid, Jeremy,” he smirked, and stepped out of the pawn shop.

So Bruce had abandoned him. Probably trying to keep him out of this case, because of that whole ‘not working well with others’ thing. And the EMF scan, well… that was probably just supposed to distract Tony.

Ah well, at least Tony had sort of expected the other scientist to do something sneaky.

 

\---

 

“You know, considering this is a store bought EMF detector instead of one of those awesome ones, you know, made by _me_ … it’s probably a touch too expensive to just abandon in a pawn shop somewhere.” Tony said, calmly, leaning in Bruce’s door.

The other man looked up sharply, eyes wide, then said, “…how the hell did you find me?”

“Hmm. I sort of expected you to abandoned me.” He shrugged, tossing the EMF detector in his hand, then stepped into the room, and kicked the door shut behind him. “So I stuck a homing beacon on you. Trust me, I’m a scientist. So… Bruce. You must really not like my company.”

“…can’t say you’re wrong.” Bruce said, after a moment, and began shoving things in his bag.

“Well, don’t run away just cause I showed up, Bruce, that’s a touch of an asshole move.” Tony smirked slightly, but tossed the other man the EMF detector, anyway. “I helped you out, back there, you could at least hear me out.”

“Look, Tony…” He shook his head. “I don’t think we can work together.”

“We worked together just fine with those demons.” Tony suggested. “Okay, maybe we didn’t really work together, so much as I just sort of passed out on you, and you helped me not die, but I took out seven demons, and you took care of me. That, as far as I’m concerned, is working together _very_ well. Besides, you gave me good advice last month.”

Bruce scoffed. “Advice you didn’t, apparently, listen to.”

 _That_ was an odd statement.

Tony frowned, brows furrowed. “…what the hell are you talking about, Bruce?”

The other man tugged a leather binder out of his bag, one that reminded Tony a lot of his father’s journals, and flicked it open. He flipped through it for a few minutes, then thrust the book towards him, his brows furrowed over his glasses, looking displeased. Tony accepted the book, a little confused, and looked down at the page. It was a newspaper article that had been cut out of the paper and stapled into the book, almost vindictively. _Five teenagers dead in bizarre murder_.

As he read, Tony’s insides felt like someone had poured a gallon of almost freezing water into him. It felt almost like his heart was dropping out of his chest, leaving him feeling cold and his fingers actually started to shake.

“…I didn’t do this.” He said, looking up at him.

Bruce took a deep breath, as though trying very hard to keep himself calm, eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Tony… you called me saying you’d been sent to kill a group of witches. I said ‘probably shouldn’t do it’, and you said, ‘no, not going to kill them’. Two days later, I read a paper, and it says that five kids in Massachusetts are _dead_. And you know what? The very thing you mentioned you’d been recommended to use to kill them… that’s what _was_ used to kill them. They had _iron nails_ in their forehead, neck, and chest, Tony! It’s right out of the Witch’s Hammer!”

Tony _knew_ that it was right out of the Witch’s Hammer. That had been the damn book that Fury had pulled out to suggest it. Shit. “I didn’t do it, Bruce… okay, I _did_ almost kill one of them. But I didn’t _actually_ kill him. I mean, it turned out the kid had sorta just been kinda screwed from the start… screwed up by his adoptive parents, abandoned by his real parents, didn’t really understand the powers he was using, which turns out where less deal-with-the-devil and more fucked-cause-his- _ancestors-_ made-a-deal-with-the-devil… so he was born with the damn powers. Or, basically, they actually started when he was thirteen… look, I talked to the kid, convinced him to _stop fucking killing_ people, and he said… he was supposed to check in with me, in a month, I said I’d kill him if he didn’t do it right. But I didn’t fucking _kill_ him, Bruce, they were some kids that got fucking cursed by their ancestors making a fucking deal with a demon!”

The former scientist considered him for a long moment, then said, finally, “If you didn’t kill them, Tony, who did?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head, looking down at the article again, swallowing hard. He felt sick. They’d just been _kids_. Kids that hadn’t asked for this shit, they were just _kids_ …

“Tony?” Bruce demanded.

He thrust the book back at him, swallowing again, and shook his head. “I wouldn’t want to talk to me either, if I had thought that I’d done this. Shit, Bruce, I… I didn’t kill those kids. Yeah, they were witches, but I didn’t fucking _kill_ them.”

The other looked at him for a long few minutes, then abruptly nodded, and said, “All right, say I believe you. Why are you stalking me?”

“I’m not… I thought you were the closest thing I had to a _friend_ , all right?” Tony ran his hand through this hair, closing his eyes for a moment. He sort of felt like his guts were twisting and turning around inside of him, all aching and sharp. He felt _guilty_ , which he definitely shouldn’t, because he had _not_ been the one to kill the damn kids. But he’d wanted to save them… “I say you, and I thought, ‘hey, maybe Bruce is looking into the same thing as me, we can work together’.”

“…what were you looking into?” Bruce asked, frowning.

“Women going missing out of their apartment building, half a block down from that pawn shop you were at.”

“Oh, that one. No, a friend of mine is taking care of that one, you don’t have to worry about it.” Bruce shook his head. “I knew about the case, but I was letting my friend take care of it. Already dealt with.”

“Oh.” Tony frowned, and settled on the edge of the only bed in the room. “…well then.”

“Look, I’m just looking into the pattern, it’s not a thing that really needs help – “ Bruce started, sitting sort of awkwardly beside him, folding his hands in his lap. Now that he was calm again, he looked more relaxed – but there was an edge to even his leisure. Reminded Tony a bit of himself, in the mornings, before his coffee. Jittery.

“Jeremy had something else to say that you missed in your effort to escape from me.”

Bruce opened his mouth again, startled, then closed it with a light _click_ of his teeth snapping against themselves. “…what did he say?”

“Not sure if it’s something you actually need to hear.” Tony smirked slightly.

“ _Tony_ , I have been charting this pattern for _two years_ , you can’t just say that there’s something, and then not _tell_ me what it is!” He protested, looking a little less relaxed again. Almost a little desperate. The withdrawing rats came right back to mind, again.

Nice to be needed, actually.

“Kid said that the yellow eyed man told him that he was creating an army, and that Jeremy might be one of his generals.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, then winced slightly, and uncrossed them, touching his own chest, lightly. “Freaked him out a little, actually, he was afraid that the yellow eyed man is creating an army to attack the states, or something.”

Bruce snorted, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’s an anti-American vendetta.”

“Well, yeah, if the yellow eyed man is really a demon – which all the signs point to him being a demon, right – then I think it’s more likely that this is a whole world thing.” Tony smirked slightly, then nudged Bruce’s arm. “For the record, I know you did the EMF thing just to get me outta the way or something, but… I actually managed to _find_ something.”

“What?” The other sat up straighter, startled. “What did you find?”

“This.” Tony handed the black lacquer box over to the other man, arching a brow. “Looks like one of those chintzy little things that they make for tourists… but it makes the EMF meter go nuts.”

Bruce grabbed the meter that Tony had tossed back a few minutes again, and flicked it on, passing it over the box. Sure enough, the red lights all lit up, and it whistled, trying to warn. “Well… that’s certainly unusual. I’ve never seen anything like that before… hm. Could be a cursed object…”

“Oh, well, that’s awesome.” Tony shook his head.

“Or it could just be something that has a spirit attached to it… both of those are possible. Could be something else, too.” Bruce shook his head, turning the box over and over in his fingers. “…well, you’ve found us a challenge, at least.”

“Found _us_ a challenge?” Tony repeated, smirking a little.

“Well… you found it with my EMF detector.” Bruce said, almost casually. “I suppose we ought to work together on it, then. I mean, unless you’re taking _back_ your offer of working together…”

“Naw, never.” He smirked. “So long as you’re all right with me being a bit of an idiot in groups.”

“I was aware of you _before_ you became a hunter, I can’t imagine you’ve changed a whole lot since.” Bruce smirked, and stood. “Well, let’s see if we can figure out what this box is, hm?”

 

\---

 

It was, perhaps slightly ironically, a Thursday when they met the angel of Thursday itself.

Steve hadn’t actually believed in angels – sure, he believed in demons and werewolves and so on, but only once had they actually been proven to be real. In the time that he’d been hunting, he certainly had _not_ discovered any proof that angels were, in fact, anything more than a fluffy winged figment of someone’s imagination.

Only this most certainly was not some baby cherub on a fluffy cloud.

“There’s some weird shit going on in New York,” Clint had said, when Tony had called in to the Hawk’s Nest to ask if they had any leads on a case that he and Bruce could pick up. They’d been working together for a few months now – turned out that two antisocial men could, in fact, work pretty well together – and despite Clint’s snide comments and Natasha’s smirks, the pair kept them fairly well stocked in hunting jobs. “Electrical storms have been knocking out power, and…”

“And?” Tony had prompted, frowning.

“And this morning, a section of the subway went dead. They’re saying about a four block radius. They can’t get power to start back up, and any train that tries to just power through dies the moment it enters the area.”

“Anyone been down there to figure out what’s going on?” Tony had asked.

There was a scuffling sound in the background, then – despite the sounds of Clint complaining at her – Natasha had answered the question. “Electronics don’t work there, Stark. This means phones, walkie talkies, flashlights… nothing. You walk into that area, and everything dies.”

“Including people?” Bruce had asked, leaning forward. Tony seemed to have a thing for speaker phone.

“No, people live, but the whole ‘everything dies’ is terrifying them. No one will go down into the area to find out what actually caused it.”

“I smell a challenge.” Tony had grinned.

Bruce’s reaction was really pretty much what he’d expected. “ _Tony_ …”

So there they were, walking through the subway tunnels of New York, dressed in stolen maintenance overalls that they’d snagged from a repair truck, flashlights cutting through the darkness as they walked. They’d sort of expected _resistance_ , when they’d shown up in the subway tunnels and claimed they’d been sent to find the source of the electrical problems down in the 74th and Broadway junction. But it made sense, too, people were freaked out but the trains _had_ to get running again. Several major lines crossed here. Even as they started walking down the line, they’d overhead one of the men saying maybe they just had to dig down through the streets.

“It’s darker than I expected, down here.” Bruce said, at last, flashlight skipping over the rails ahead.

“We’re underground, Bruce, of _course_ it’s dark,” Tony said, almost sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “What did you expect?”

The other sighed, and let the beam trail up to land on the lights on the ceiling. In this section of the track they were still on, presumably still at full strength, but at the moment seemed to give no real illumination. It was like the darkness around them was trying to smother the light. “I’ve been down here, on a train, many times before. It never seemed _this_ dark. This is the darkest place I’ve ever been – and I _have_ been underground before.”

“Well, just keep an eye out for where we are, so we’ll know before our lights go – “

Abruptly, both the lights overhead and the lights of their flashlights were gone, and they were plunged in complete darkness that seemed to cling to them. Even the lights that had been overhead just a moment before weren’t there now, as though they’d been blindfolded.

“Dead.” Tony said, with a sigh.

“So this is what they meant by complete darkness,” Bruce said, after a moment. “Eerie.”

“Time to test the torch theory.” Tony said, and a moment later, flame flared in the stillness, as he held up the Zippo he normally used to toast corpses. “Well! Flames _will_ work. Hand me the torch, will you?”

A moment later, flickering orange flames lit up the area around them, and they were able to see enough to walk. Unlike the electrical lights of before, the darkness didn’t seem to be choking out this light. As they walked, Tony remarked that it made him think of shadow people, cowering just outside the ring of light made by their fire, trying to work up the courage to come inside and attack. Bruce informed him that this was not a very comforting mental image. Tony just snickered and rolled his eyes at him.

The tunnel was eerily silent, too. Before, when they were walking, there was the sound of dripping water, the movement of mice, the distant sounds of trains. Now that they were in the darkness, though, the only sound was their breathing, and distantly, the dull sounds of their feet on the concrete. It was like they weren’t actually hearing their own feet, but the dull echo of someone else’s distant footsteps. Only their voices would break the silence, and when they did, they would both catch themselves jumping. It was as though sound had ceased to exist, and their own voices scared them.

The light wasn’t much more of a comfort. Besides Tony’s ominous observations, their torches just didn’t give enough light, really, and they often found themselves stumbling over the rails, or debris, or their own feet.

“It’s hot as Hades down here,” Tony muttered, at one point, pulling at the collar of his overalls.

“I somehow imagine Hades to be a _touch_ warmer than this,” Bruce smirked.

“Why?” He flicked the torch over so that he could actually see the other’s face. “You ever been? Come back with quantitative scientific proof that Hades is hotter than a Subway tunnel in New York?”

“Tony,” Bruce sighed, heavily. “Shut up.”

Snickering, he unbuttoned the front of the overalls, clearly still focused on the apparent heat of the tunnels, tying the arms around his waist, in a loose knot.

“You look like a lazy plumber.”

“I feel _much_ better.” He countered.

Shaking his head, Bruce lifted his torch up a little higher, and focused on the path ahead of them. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, then Bruce abruptly spoke up again. “What is that light?”

“What light? I don’t see anything.”

“ _That_ light.” Bruce reached over, tapping Tony’s chest, frowning. “Is that _hard_? What, you have a flash light under your shirt…?”

Tony jerked a little out of his range, flushed. “Of course not.”

The pale blue light definitely _was_ emanating from the other man’s chest, oddly lighting up the bottom of his face, like he was holding a phone under his jaw or something, all dim blue glowing that threw his face into dark shadows. But it couldn’t _be_ a cell phone, of course, because everything electronic stopped working down here, so it couldn’t be a flashlight, it couldn’t be a cell phone, it couldn’t be anything electronic, yet there it was, a dull blue glow that shone through the front of Tony’s shirt, filtered by the fabric of his t-shirt. “So what it is, then?” Bruce demanded.

“It’s nothing. Look, can we just… focus on the job at hand, please?” Tony said, jaw grit tightly.

Frowning slightly, Bruce nodded.

But that didn’t really mean that he was planning on dropping the topic forever – just for the moment, perhaps. “EMF’s not going to help us down here, so there’s no way to tell if it’s a spirit or something…” He said, as they walked, Tony’s torch sending the shadows to scatter, then regroup behind them. Penned in by darkness. “And a spirit _could_ make sense, considering how it’s manifested… ghost of someone who died down here while digging the tunnels, maybe?”

“I’m not feeling any cold spots.” Tony pointed out, clearing his throat. He was clearly trying to act as though everything was normal still. “Are you?”

“No,” Bruce admitted.

The tunnel they were walking in flared out slightly, tiled walls moving away from them as they entered an area where several tracks lay side by side, some kind of junction. Here, the torch fought valiantly against the darkness, trying to cast its flickering light further, until it caught on, of all things, movement.

“Tony!” The other said, sharply, and he swung the torch towards it.

Their first thought was that it was a homeless man, or something, who had stumbled his way in the tunnels, then gotten lost when this darkness had descended. Only then they realized that the man – crouched low, clearly muscular, dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt, shoulder length blond hair, goatee – was crouching over the body of another man, who appeared to be both unconscious and naked. Their minds, naturally, flicked to a thousand different possibilities – vampire, werewolf, windigo, rugaru – though none of those assumptions involved humans attacking other humans down in the subways.

Bruce tugged his gun out of the back of his coveralls, and said, “All right, buddy, just back away…”

After all, they’d clearly already been seen. Now they just had to figure out what they were facing, here. No sense running into – well, whatever they were running into – blind.

The blond growled, teeth bared as he curled over the naked man on the ground, either protectively or predatorily. It was hard for them to tell. He was an imposing figure, crouched like a beast.

Tony tugged his own gun out of his pocket, flicking the safety off. No point in playing it safe, there was a man standing there, over a possibly already dead body. The man sprawled on the ground was muscular, he looked tall and powerful, blond hair askew, eyes closed, lips parted. He could be sleeping, or he could be dead. There was no blood on him, which was encouraging at least, but why was he just laying there, then? If he wasn’t dead, he should be up and moving and trying to get away from the man crouching over him. “All right, blondie… back away from the naked dude.”

“Blondie”, or rather, the goatee’d man, bared his teeth. It was like a snarl, only he didn’t make a sound, and the air around them seemed to crackle like electricity. Odd, considering there was literally no electricity down here at the moment.

“Who are you?” Bruce demanded.

“I do not need to answer to the likes of you,” the blond said, firmly, squaring his shoulders, but he didn’t stand up.

“C’mon, buddy… let the naked dude go, and we can all go our own ways.”

The man frowned, one of his hands still curled on the naked man’s shoulder. “No,” he said, calmly.

Tony arched a brow. “I’m sorry, did you just say ‘no’?”

“We can’t go our own ways, Tony Stark.” The stranger said, lifting his chin. “We can never go our own ways again. Our destinies are linked – you are _needed_.”

There was silence in the darkness for the moment, the only sound the quiet crackling of the torch licking at the oil soaked rag they’d wrapped around the wooden cudgel they’d made the torch out of, then Tony let out a loud _huff_ of breath, and said, “Do all supernatural freaks know who I am, or something?”

The man straightened, finally, standing up slowly, almost as though he had to keep himself measured, like he needed to be patient with himself. If he moved too fast, perhaps, he’d do something foolish, or fall over. But he stood, muscles moving under his white t-shirt, tight under the thin fabric, and now that he was standing, it was all the more obvious that this man was _powerful_ , the kind of man that could probably pick someone up and break them over his knee. It was as though there was a ripple in the electricity that had been crackling heavy in the air around them – then there was light, suddenly, cracking like lightning, flickering and bright – and it was as though the room filled with fireworks for a moment, casting deeper shadows, dark and startling. The shadows were being cast off of things that _weren’t there,_ though, there were reflections of enormous wings rising from the blond man’s shoulders, stretching wider until they seemed to stretch through the entire space of the space they were in. “I am Thor.” He said, firmly, not seeming to be phased by the men’s startled expressions. “I am an angel of the Lord, and I am burdened with great purpose.”

“There’s no such thing as angels.” Bruce said, jaw grit tightly.

“Bruce…” Tony murmured.

“There is _no_ such thing.” He said, again, seriously.

“I think we can safely say that big and blond here _is_ , in fact, an angel.” Tony said, and his fingertips pressed, for a moment, against that spot on his chest where the blue light had been coming from, a few moments earlier. It was still there, actually, glowing in the darkness, but there were more important things on their minds, clearly. “Thor, is it? All right, Thor… who’s _that_?”

Thor frowned slightly. It was as though he hadn’t _actually_ expected Tony to agree, that he was an angel. Looking down at the still man on the ground, he said, “He is a righteous man.”

“Good for him, that doesn’t exactly explain anything.”

“Tony.” Bruce said, frowning. “You’re the one that said ‘Don’t believe anything you don’t have proof for’, this is _insane_ …”

“You hunt demons, Bruce. Angels are hardly out of the realm of possibility.” Tony said, and shoved his gun into the back of his jeans, inside his coveralls, and stepped forward, boots crunching slightly on the gravel beneath their feet. Thor bared his teeth at him again, for a moment, but didn’t _stop_ Tony from crouching at his feet. Touching the naked man’s jaw, Tony turned his face towards him, and pressed his fingertips to the soft skin under the hollow of his jaw, brows furrowed for a moment as he waited, then murmured, relieved, “Well, he’s got a pulse. That’s good, at least. So, Thor… who _is_ this righteous man?”

“Steve Rogers.” Thor said, after a moment.

“That’s not possible!” Bruce said, louder than strictly necessary, bolting forward.

Fingers still on the naked man’s – Steve, apparently – jaw, Tony glanced up at Bruce, frowning. He probably shouldn’t have set his torch on the floor, but it still burned beside them, light flickering over the little group as his companion stepped forward, brows furrowed. “What do you mean, Bruce?”

Thor crossed his muscular arms over his _very_ muscular chest. Did all angels look like a UFC cage fighter?

“Steve Rogers was a hunter.” Bruce’s eyes were on Thor, not Tony at the moment. “In World War _Two_.”

Fingers still pressed to the soft skin under Steve’s jaw, Tony frowned, brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, did you say World War Two? Because the man laying here right now is a _little_ too young to have fought during any world war. He _father_ was alive during that war, and he’d be in his _nineties_ now if he was alive. This guy… this guy is _not_ in his nineties. And if he _is_ , fuck, I need whatever fountain of youth _he’s_ been drinking from, cause I need me some of that.”

“Of course it can’t be him.” The former scientist said, one of his hands clenched in a fist by his side, the other gripping his gun too tight. His knuckles were white, as though he was trying to crush the gun in his hands. “Steve Rogers _died_ in Germany, in 1943. He was fighting HYDRA, the Nazi unit that was focused on supernatural research. He was _killed_ , closing a _gate_ to _hell_.”

Tony arched his brows, looking up at Thor.

The angel – because no matter what Bruce thought, yeah, Tony believed that this man was an angel – frowned, and nodded. “Steve Rogers was a righteous man. He died, preventing the apocalypse that HYDRA was attempting to trigger, with the aid of several demons.”

Looking back down at Steve, he hesitated, and said, “Am I missing something? Because this man is _not_ dead.”

“No. He is not.” Thor agreed.

“Are you telling me,” Bruce said, voice rough, “That you have the ability to bring a man back from the dead?”

The angel frowned, then nodded, shortly. “I do what my father allows me to.”

“Shit,” Tony murmured.

The little space they were standing in was silent for a moment, then Tony realized that there was the sound of harsh breathing, a panting that was startlingly loud in the silence of the darkness. Glancing up at his companion, Tony frowned. “Bruce? _Bruce_? Are you all right?”

Thor lifted his jaw, brows furrowed for a moment. “You are tainted.”

“Tainted? Oh come on, now, that’s a little harsh, don’t you – “ Tony started, straightening up as he stood, hands loose by his side.

Bruce _bellowed_ , a senseless sound of rage, and Thor was abruptly thrown across the space, his back smashing into the concrete wall hard enough that the wall behind him shattered, a spider-web of cracks spreading out from behind him, and he slid down the wall, landing with a crunch on the gravel.

“Holy _shit_!” Tony yelped, startled. “What the - ?!”

Thor pushed himself to his feet, teeth bared in a snarl again, and bolted forward, as though rushing into battle – and Tony was reminded all over again of a UFC cage fighter. Only he never actually reached Bruce, because his friend had thrown up his hands, slamming his hands forward as though shoving at the angel. He never made contact with him – hell, there were still several feet of space between them – but still, Thor was thrown back again, his shoulder slamming into the wall, this time. It didn’t make sense. But it was happening, it was right in _front of him_ , Tony was watching his friend somehow attack an angel with his _mind_ , or something. Bruce didn’t even _look_ like himself, his teeth were bared in a snarl, and his eyes didn’t look right. They weren’t _black_ , he wasn’t possessed, but… they weren’t right. They weren’t the eyes that Tony was used to seeing on his remarkably gentle scientist buddy. He wasn’t trying to make himself look smaller, he wasn’t trying to curl in on himself anymore, he was standing tall, confident, as though trying to take up as much space as possible.

“Bruce?” Tony breathed.

“Tainted,” Thor growled, pushing himself up to his feet again, snarling. “What lies have they been telling you, Banner? That they’re making you stronger? You _fool_.”

“They _have_ made me stronger,” he said, taking another step forward, frowning.

“ _Christo_!” He shouted.

“I’m not possessed, Tony.” Bruce said, voice sharp.

“You sure as fuck look possessed right now,” he said, reaching out to grab  his friend’s arm. He wasn’t even surprised when Bruce shook his hand off, but he grabbed his arm again, frowning. “Bruce. _Bruce_. Listen to me, what the hell is going on here?!”

He roared, spinning, and it felt as though Tony had just had a battering ram slam straight into his gut. Soaring through the air, he flew backwards until his own back made impact with the concrete walls of the tunnel, and the wall cracked on impact. It was like being hit by a linebacker, and he groaned, sliding down to the floor, slumping. He could taste blood in his mouth, and already his head was starting to ring. God, his ribs felt broken. Were they broken? Shit. “Bruce, this…” he panted, gagging slightly. He needed armour or something. “This isn’t like you.”

Bruce stepped towards him, as though he was going to attack again, then stopped dead, suddenly.

Steve Roger’s hands were wrapped around the scientist’s ankle, gripping tightly, and the naked man looked up at him, grim and serious. “Stand down, soldier.”

He hesitated.

Apparently that hesitation was enough of a gap, time for Thor to make a move, because abruptly the angel stood in front of him, as though materialized from thin air, and he pressed the tips of two fingers lightly to Bruce’s forehead. The scientist’s eyes rolled up into his head, and he slumped down towards the ground – though Thor caught him.

Gagging slightly, Tony pushed himself to his feet, pressing his right hand to his ribs, swallowing. He still tasted blood, and his ribs _really_ felt broken. “What the hell was that?”

“Your friend has become an abomination,” Thor said, quietly, though he was still cradling Bruce Banner to his chest. “We must leave this place.”

“Yeah.” Tony breathed, nodding. “Sounds awesome. Only how are we gonna walk out of here with a man that’s unconscious and another that’s naked? Cause I don’t know what things are like in that fluffy cloud home of yours, but that’s _unusual_ here.”

Steve pushed himself to his feet, slowly, frowning.

His eyes flicked over to the blond, looking him up and down for a moment, then arched a brow. “Though it would almost be a shame to ask a man like him to put clothes on…”

The blond blinked at him, startled, arching a single brow.

Tony grinned back.

“I can attend to that,” Thor said, shifting Bruce’s limp body so that he was draped over his shoulder, and stepped forward, reaching up to touch their foreheads.

Abruptly, the four of them were gone.

Where it had been left on the tracks, the torch crackled cheerfully, trying to keep the shadows at bay, though there was no longer anyone there to try and see through the darkness.

 

\---

 

Tony was nursing a glass of whiskey as he watched the other three men in his motel room, half tempted to make some kind of joke about this looking like the beginning of some kind of porno, or something, but bit his tongue, and sipped at his glass again. Bruce was awake again, slumped on the bed, leaning against the pillows. He was curled in on himself, like he always was, like Tony was used to seeing, and his eyes were normal again. No more animal in his eyes, didn’t look like a beast anymore, he looked like _himself_ , again – a haunted man that had seen too much. Thor stood against the wall, arms crossed as he leaned beside the window with the curtains they’d tightly pulled shut to hide their activities, watching them all with a wary look, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of them all.

The bathroom door opened, and Steve stepped out of the small room, running a hand through his blond hair. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt borrowed from Bruce, though they didn’t quite fit, pulled too tight across his broad shoulders, the sleeves of the purple dress shirt rolled up to the elbows to hide the fact that the sleeves weren’t long enough. “Thank you for the clothes,” the man said, politely.

Bruce, who hadn’t really met any of their eyes since Thor had dumped him down on the bed, grunted, and nodded.

“All right, so… we got an angel, a dead man… a sexy genius…” Tony grinned slightly, and shifted forward to consider his friend. “And a man with a strange ability to throw people across a room when he’s pissed off. So, Bruce… why do you get a little… demony, when you’re angry?”

He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t answer the question, Bruce.” He said, quietly.

Steve tugged out the chair beside Tony’s at the little table, sitting down, quietly, folding his hands on the edge of the table. Tony glanced at him despite himself, distracted. Sort of weird, to see a man that had apparently died sixty some years ago, sitting beside him as though it was perfectly normal.

Taking a deep breath, Bruce shifted quietly on the bed, and slid off of it. Padding across the room, he opened his binder fill of notes, and tugged out the map, quietly. Unfolding it, he laid it out on the end of the bed, and looked up at Tony. “You’ve seen this before, my… my map of all of the children I was telling you about. Demon activity at their six month birthday, children developing strange powers… And yes, it was the government that was researching them. You were right. The secret services were investigating these children. They wanted to know why these kids were exhibiting psychic powers. After all, they thought that if they could figure out what it was, they could harness it.”

“But there was _demons_ involved?” Steve demanded, frowning.

Bruce hesitated, and nodded.

“The government doesn’t believe in demons,” Tony rolled his eyes.

“Of course the government believes in demons.” Steve blinked at Tony, surprised by his statement. “I fought for the government in my time, against HYDRA, which was a Nazi unit that not only knew about demons, but tried to use them. The Nazis tried to trigger the apocalypse. I had to stop them.”

“…you are weirdly comfortable about this whole ‘waking up in a different century and not being dead’ thing,” Tony said, finally, looking Steve up and down.

The blond flushed, and shrugged. “I suppose I’m used to strange things. Dr. Banner? The government was investigating demons?”

Bruce frowned slightly, glancing over at Steve, then shook his head. “No, not exactly. They weren’t looking into demons, they were looking into the _children_ , who, as far as we could tell, were just normal humans. So we started looking, and… doing as much research as possible. There wasn’t a lot to find, but finally we managed to find a common thread. These parents had made deals. With demons, that is. They had visited the mothers or fathers ten years before, and gotten them to agree to deals – and the only part of the deal was that the demon would pay their children a visit. That was all. So we dug further, dug harder… the _resources_ they sunk into this…” Bruce took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair, then tugged off his glasses, and rubbed them on the stomach of his shirt, closing his eyes. “We finally figured out what it was. The demon - that yellowed eyed demon I was telling you about – he had fed the children his own blood. Infected them, I guess you could say. They had _demon blood in them_.”

Steve hissed, eyes wide. “That’s disgusting.”

“Also probably not all that healthy,” Tony crinkled his nose. “Demons possess people. What if the guy they were possessing at the time had hepatitis, or something?”

Bruce smiled faintly, and shrugged. “None of the children seemed to have that issue. But we started to think – we started to think it would be the blood that gave the children their powers. They suggested all sort of possible ways to test this, from injecting demon blood into animals, to getting a vampire to drink it or something, but… in the end, I volunteered.”

“…volunteered?” Tony demanded, frowning. “Bruce, you _didn’t_ …”

“I did.” He smiled faintly, though without humour. “All of our research suggested that it was the drinking of demon blood that had made these children psychic, so I… drank demon blood.”

“ _Dr. Banner_!” Steve looked absolutely horrified.

Bruce let out a long, shaky breath. “It worked. To… to an extent. Those children only needed the blood the once, and that seemed to be enough, but… perhaps it was because I was an adult, or because it wasn’t the right demon, or… whatever the reason, it worked, but only for awhile. So they pushed it further, having me drink demon blood again, and again, to try and build up a store, or something, but…” He closed his eyes. “It’s… it’s addicting. And it’s _not_ right, it’s taking in the essence of something so _twisted_ it’s not natural, I know it’s not, but… I can’t stop.”

“You’ve been ensnared in Azazel’s plot.” Thor spoke up, and all three men looked at him, startled. His brows were furrowed as he continued leaning on the wall, frowning. “Azazel is the man you’ve been searching for, the demon with yellow eyes. He’s a former angel, and now serves Lucifer, the imprisoned Lord of Hell. He is attempting to bring about the apocalypse, and those children play their part. He is creating Generals, for his army. You are a very foolish mortal, Bruce Banner.”

Bruce laughed, breathlessly. “You’re not wrong.”

“That’s why you were so angry that I had exorcised all of the demons,” Tony said, slowly, suddenly understanding. “Because you needed their blood, didn’t you?”

He swallowed, heavily, then nodded.

“You must stop.” Thor said, without a moment’s hesitation.

Bruce gave the angel a sharp look. “Do you not understand the operations of _addictions_? It’s not something you can just quit doing, _Thor_ , it’s…”

“Been years?” Tony guessed.

The other hesitated, then nodded again, letting out another of those shaky breaths. This was why Bruce had been shaky, why he’d acted like the detoxing rat. Because he _was_ detoxing. “Since before I left the military. It’s why I left, why I faked my death… because I finally got it to work. I had to drink a lot of demon blood, but I _got it to work_ , and if they knew that it had… they would have done it to other people. Soldiers, _children_ , they would have had to drink demon blood all because the government wanted to have psychics at their disposal. I couldn’t let them do that. I can’t _stop_ , but… at least I could prevent it happening again. So I arranged for my own death, made it look like it was the demon blood that had done it… and I disappeared.”

“And now you’re _drinking demon blood_ ,” Steve said, brows furrowed. He looked absolutely horrified – and Tony couldn’t really blame him.

“Well, it’s not like there are nicotine patches for demon blood.” Tony grinned at him.

Steve just looked confused.

“They’re, ah… patches that they stick on people’s skin to help them quit smoking… ah. You know, get them over the withdrawls…” He tried to explain.

“…why would you need to quit smoking?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“…well shit.” Tony blinked at Steve, then twisted to look back at the other men. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

“You don’t understand,” Thor pushed off of the wall, and stepped forward, frowning. “Bruce Banner, you _must_ stop this. The demons know what you are doing, they are _tracking_ you, you must stop this.”

Tony pointed at h is friend. “I told you, the demon said your name…”

Bruce nodded. “I know, but what do I _do_? I can’t just stop. It’s not that simple. I’ve _tried_ , before, and I end up giving up after a few days, because I just can’t _stop_ , it _hurts_  - hell, I start _hallucinating_! There is no way I can… this is worse than any drug. I can’t just stop, I’d have to have some safe place… some way to force myself to not find a demon, I’d need someone that could stop me…”

“We have an angel!” Tony waved at Thor.

“I cannot stay.” Thor said, shaking his head. “I have more important things to do than baby sit a foolish mortal who chose to make himself into an abomination.”

Bruce flushed, flinching.

“Okay, _that_ was uncalled for.” Tony said, crossing his arm, and glowering at the angel.

“No,” Bruce murmured, quietly. “No, I deserve it. He’s right. If he really _is_ an angel, he has _far_ more important things to worry about than a man who has made too many mistakes.”

“But we have to do _something_ to save you.” Steve said, firmly.

“Wait.” Tony held up his hands. “You need a safe place, with someone who’s in the know to help, right?”

Bruce hesitated, then nodded.

“I got an idea.” He grinned.

 

\---

 

“No. Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Fury… you’re perfect for this.” Tony grinned at the other man, trying to sound disarming. “You got the equipment, you got the knowledge… just gimme a hand with Bruce, that’s all you gotta do.”

The other man scowled, brows furrowed as he glanced at the other side of the room, where Bruce and Steve were talking quietly. “I don’t like this.”

“I know you don’t, but look, they’re saying the apocalypse is starting, and hell, we got a man back from the _dead_ here, so… look, we just need your help to detox Bruce, okay? It shouldn’t even take much work, just… keep him locked down for awhile.”

Fury frowned, then finally sighed. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“You’re a saint, Fury.” Tony grinned.

“Don’t try and butter me up, boy, it ain’t gonna work,” the man said, shaking his head, then called, “Banner! Let’s get goin’, then… come on. I got a place where you can settle in til after this is over.”

“…thank you,” Bruce said, quietly, crossing the room to approach them. Steve followed him, quietly.

Fury nodded, face dark, and led them deeper into the building. Tony had expected cells or something back here – wasn’t this an old police station or something? – but he did _not_ expect what they did find. Fury led them down a staircase into a massive room that reminded Tony of a warehouse, or something, filled with even more books than there were upstairs, shelves full of weapons and relics, and in the very centre of the room, there was a massive circular tube made of thick glass. It sort of looked like someone had plucked it out of a science lab somewhere, and it looked completely out of place in the middle of this rough man’s warehouse. That didn’t, however, seem to stop it being there. Fury smiled grimly at them, and nodded at it. “You can’t get out of there. I don’t care how much psychic mojo you have got, Banner, you _cannot_ get out of that thing. This is the safest place for you.”

“That looks unpleasant,” Steve admitted.

“Well, it’ll work.” Fury shrugged.

“Thank you,” Bruce said, smiling faintly at the one eyed man, and shook his hand, quietly.

The older man nodded, then stepped up to an electronic panel to open the door. “C’mon in, Banner. We’ll get you detoxed soon enough.”

“Good luck, Bruce.” Steve smiled up at him, disarmingly.

“Give me a call when you think you’re ready to get outta here, right?” Tony grinned at his friend.

“Thank you,” Bruce murmured, and stepped into the cage.

Fury sealed him in, then escorted the other two men off of his grounds. Frankly, Tony was relieved that Fury had been willing to help out at _all_ , so at least that was something. Steve sitting in the front passenger seat beside him, Tony headed out of the little parking lot, and down the street, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

“That was a good thing you did,” Steve said, suddenly.

Tony glanced at him. “Excuse me?”

“It was a good thing you did,” he said, quietly, hands folded in his lap. “Taking care of your friend. That was a good thing to do, I just… I just wanted to say that you’re a good man, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony.” He crinkled his nose. “Please. Mr. Stark was my father.”

Steve smiled faintly, and said, softly, “Your father was also a good man.”

He froze for a moment. Of course, that was a dangerous idea, because he was _driving_ , but Tony jerked himself back to his senses a moment later, and cleared his throat before he said, “You knew my father?”

The other man nodded, biting his lower lip. “He taught me a lot.”

“Because you were the American military’s attempt at stopping the Apocalypse.” Tony said, slowly. “And my father was a hunter.”

“Yeah.” He said, softly.

“Well, _that_ makes this all sorts of awkward.” He cleared his throat.

“Sorry.” Steve said, sheepishly. “Still… you’re a good man, Tony. Bruce told me what happened to your father… I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I can’t imagine what that must have been like…”

“Don’t.” Tony tightened his jaw. “He might have been a good man, but he was a terrible father.”

“A lot of good men are terrible people,” he said, softly, shifting slightly so that his was looking out the window. Steve looked a bit like a kicked puppy, and Tony groaned softly, feeling immediately guilty. Dammit. He didn’t want to make this guy’s introduction to the twenty-first century be via an asshole.

“Sorry.” Tony said, frowning a little.

He shrugged.

“No, really.” He shifted slightly, still driving, fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sure my father was a very good hunter, everyone I’ve talked to has said he was. But he never told me any of this. I’d never even heard your name.”

“I was far undercover.” Steve laughed. “I had a code name and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” He smirked.

“I don’t know if you all have heard about it, but… do you remember those terrible comic strips that were popular during the wars, some man named ‘Captain America’, who was basically supposed to be a patriotic hero that led people to buying bonds? They used to call me Captain America, make jokes that I was going to go punch Herr Hitler in the jaw. I wasn’t, of course, I was going to exorcise the demons that had been allowed to possess rank and file of Nazi soldiers. They had all but created an army of demon foot soldiers, HYDRA was full of black-eyes.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of Captain America,” Tony said, flushed slightly. “My dad gave me a shitty little stuffed Captain America doll. It was the only thing he’d really ever given me… so I kept the damn thing. Hell, I still have it in the trunk.”

“Really?” Steve laughed, seeming genuinely amused.

“I don’t have much left in the world, Steve… gotta keep what I got.” Tony smirked.

“I don’t have anything,” the other murmured, smile fading.

Dammit, there was the kicked puppy look again. Sighing heavily, he glanced over at the other man, and said, “Try not to look like someone kicked your puppy, Steve. Look, I get it, you were alive once and then you got killed, and now you’re back, which I imagine has got to suck, but at least you’re not in hell anymore, right?”

Steve looked at him sharply. “I wasn’t in hell.”

Tony hesitated, startled. “…what?”

“I wasn’t in hell.” Steve said again, shifting to sit up straighter. “I was in heaven. Thor pulled me out of heaven.”

“Wait, _what_?” He gaped at the rearview mirror, meeting his eyes that way. The other’s blue eyes looked back at him, intently. “Why the hell would he pull you out of heaven?!”

“Because they needed me.” He said, without hesitation. “I averted the Apocalypse once before, Tony, because that was what they needed me to do, so that’s what I did. I believe that if you have the ability to do the right thing, than you have a moral obligation to do it. So… I did the right thing during the war, and now… well, Thor came to me, and said that they needed me again. They needed me to stop the Apocalypse from happening again, so… here I am.”

“He _asked_ you?!”

Steve nodded. “Of course he did. I was in heaven, I am not sure that they’re allowed to pull you out of heaven without permission. Thor came to me, and asked me if I was willing to help avert the Apocalypse again, of course I agreed. What kind of beast would refuse the request of an angel?”

Tony frowned for a moment, then shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know.”

“Well… there you are.” He sighed softly, and leaned back, closing his eyes. Tony let his eyes slip over the line of the other’s jaw and throat, then jerked his eyes back to the road to focus on driving. “I have to be a good man, because someone has to be.”

“What, you don’t think there are any good men in our day and age?” Tony smirked.

Steve opened a single one of those blue eyes, considering Tony for a moment. “Of course there are. You’re a good man.”

He laughed, and grinned, feeling pretty damn good about himself.

 

\---

 

Tony laughed as he dropped into the driver’s seat of the car, breathless and bloody, grinning. “I have to say, I have _never_ had that much fun on a hunt before!”

Steve snorted as he settled himself quietly into the front passenger seat, tugging the door shut behind him. “I’ve never seen someone throw themselves quite so… completely into a hunt before,” he admitted. “Most people don’t really have _fun_ when they’re hunting changelings, Tony.”

“Oh come on, _that_ was fun.” He grinned.

“You liked lighting fairy children on fire?” He asked, smirking slightly, relaxing back into his seat. “Granted, I’m pleased they have been destroyed, but…”

“It was good.” Tony reached over to squeeze the other’s shoulder. “And be happy, Steve, we saved a lot of families, tonight.”

“So we did.” He agreed, then hesitated, and leaned forward, touching the little silver amulet that hung around Tony’s neck. “What is this?”

He caught his breath, tempted to bolt away from him.

“Tony?” He looked up at him.

He licked his lips, and didn’t pull back, stayed where he sat, letting Steve hold the little silver amulet on the black cord. “It’s an amulet… my best friend gave it to me, when I was a child. Why?”

“It’s… it’s a Solomon Seal.” He murmured, turning it over in his fingers.

“Yeah. Devil’s trap. I had no idea,” Tony admitted. “Didn’t even know what a Solomon Seal _was_ , but… I thought that devil’s traps were supposed to keep a demon trapped in. This one doesn’t. I’ve had demons touch it before, and every time… they disappear, yelling, or they’re exorcised. Just like that.”

“Well, it’s a modified devil’s trap.” Steve admitted. “It’s beautiful. That friend must have really loved you.”

He flushed, and cleared his throat. “Rhodey. My best friend for many years, I – he was my best friend, he was. He’s one of the few people from my old life that knows that I’m not actually dead. He’s taking care of my Pepper for me.”

“Pepper?” Steve blinked.

“My assistant. Well, more than an _assistant_ , really, she was the only one that kept me going. Kept me alive, to be honest. She’s the CEO of StarkTech, now that I’m ‘dead’.”

“Must be hard,” he murmured.

“Yeah, but I have to keep the demons that are trying to track me down away from those I care about, don’t I?” Tony grinned, trying to make everything all right again, to make things funny and cheerful and quiet, get everything back to normal. It was easy enough to do, it was what he always did. Humour was a defense mechanism. “I love my Pepper, so I have to keep the monsters away from her.”

“Is she your girl?” Steve asked, awkwardly, shifting back in his seat again.

Tony started the car up again, and buckled himself in before pulling off of the side of the road, and heading back towards town again. They needed to get back to their motel, he needed to get cleaned up if nothing else, and he’d really like to sleep for about sixteen hours. “No, I wouldn’t have said no, back in the day, but no, Pepper isn’t my ‘girl’, she’s just an extraordinarily dependable friend.”

“Ah.” The other said, quietly.

Smirking slightly, Tony glanced at him again. “Why do you ask?”

“Just… curious.”

“Mmhmm,” he smirked, reaching over to flick on the radio, classic rock filling the silence around them, the sounds of Boston curling around them. He hummed along with the song for a few minutes, then laughed softly when he realized that there was an extra voice helping him hum along with the radio – a mechanized, whistling voice. Sitting between them on the seat was the little metal box that held Dummy’s motherboard, and it was what was whistling.

“…what is that?” Steve asked, suddenly.

Tony glanced at his companion. “The whistling? That’s Dummy.”

“Dummy.” He repeated.

“Dummy.” Tony nodded, and shifted the journal off of the little metal box, exposing it. There was a few blinking lights on the front, and a speaker on top. Dummy whistled again, cheerfully.

“…what is _Dummy_?” Steve asked, warily.

“A robot.” He hesitated, and glanced at the little metal box. “Okay, he’s not much of a robot right now, but he certainly used to be. I made him when I was fourteen, he was a robot, once upon a time, at the moment he’s just an artificial intelligence trapped inside a little box because I wasn’t able to bring his whole body with me, it was alarmingly large, and it certainly wouldn’t have fit in my trunk. So this little box has to do. Heya, Dummy… _this_ is Steve. He was a hero, once upon a time, back in World War Two. He knew my father. Say hi to Steve, Dummy.”

The little metal box whistled, cheerfully, and Steve laughed, softly.

“No need to be sarcastic about it,” Tony grinned, and rapped his knuckles on the top of the little box. “He’s gonna be traveling with us for awhile, so try and treat him a _little_ nicer than you treat Bruce, huh?”

“He doesn’t talk, though,” the other said, warily.

“No, he doesn’t, he whistles, but I _made_ him, so of course I know what all that whistling means… means he’s a brat.” Tony laughed. “He doesn’t like when anyone gets more attention more than he does, so yeah, he’s jealous of you. Don’t worry, though, I’m not going to let him actually do anything more than just whistle. After all, he doesn’t have an arm anymore. And I don’t think I’m going to _give_ him one, either… much easier to deal with when I can use him as a door stop when he’s irritating.”

Steve shook his head, and leaned over to tap the top of Dummy’s box, lightly. “Don’t listen to him, Dummy, I think you’re lovely.”

Dummy whistled, cheerfully.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Great, now my own inventions are turning against me.”

They drove into town, quietly, and as Tony pulled up in front of the little motel they’d rented a room in, Steve abruptly said, “Have you heard anything from Dr. Banner or Mr. Fury?”

Tony cut the engine, and stepped out of the car, running his hand through his bloody hair. “Nope.”

“Should we try to call them?” Steve asked, scooping up his duffle bag out of the back seat, and headed towards the little room. He dug his keys out of his pocket, and unlocked the little room, stepping inside. It was an ugly looking room, all in yellow faded wallpaper and scruffy golden shag carpet, decorated as though it was supposed to be out of the wild west, but it was well worn around the edges. Tossing his duffle down on the end of his bed, Steve slumped to sit beside it, smiling faintly at Tony. “Because I’m worried about Dr. Banner.”

“So am I,” Tony admitted, frowning slightly, and tugged off his stiff, bloody jacket. “But they said they’d call.”

“That’s true,” Steve admitted, then smiled faintly at Tony. “I think you need to shower, friend.”

“I think you’re right,” he laughed, and kicked off his boots. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, all right?”

He nodded.

Tony headed into the bathroom, and stripped out of his clothes, and stepped into the shower, letting the water pour over him. Blood sluiced around his feet, curling around his toes in the swirling water, and slid down the drain. It was a relief, to let the water just run over him, let it wash away all of the traces of those damn changelings – they could be killed by fire, but one of them had attacked too fast for the improvised flame thrower that Steve had been wielding, and he’d had to cut its head off. Naturally, he was a bloody mess, but it felt good to clear it all away, anyway.

A few minutes later, Tony stepped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and scrubbing it through his hair for a moment before slinging it around his waist, and stepping up to the little counter. The mirror that hung over it was old, pock marked with little black flecks and scratched glass, but at least it was clear enough that he could see himself.

He looked exhausted.

Well, Tony supposed, that made sense, since he was fucking exhausted.

Dark circles under his eyes, his goatee and hair not as neat or smooth as it used to be, so that he supposed he looked a lot less neat and orderly as he always had, when he was still very much in the public eye. Smiling faintly at himself, he tried to look a little less exhausted, but it didn’t seem to work. He looked as exhausted and worn as he always had, and he sighed, smile fading. The necklace hung around  his neck, as it always had, but what was under it – well, _that_ wasn’t normal, was it?

He went to grab some clothes to get dressed, and swore as he realized that he’d forgotten to bring something in. Dammit. He hesitated, then cracked the door open.

Steve was sitting at the table, cleaning the guns.

If he hurried…

He hesitated, then slipped out of the bathroom, darting for his duffle, where it lay on his bed. He tugged on a t-shirt first, relieved to be covered up, then jerked on his jeans next. Tossing  his towel back in the general direction of the bathroom, he grabbed for a plaid shirt to pull on over top his light t-shirt, then started. Steve wasn’t sitting at the desk anymore, he was standing beside him, suddenly, and Tony let out a long breath, flushed. “Shit, Steve… scared the crap out of me. What the hell is up with you, sneaking around like a cat? I ought to put a bell on you.”

Steve reached out, and set his palm on Tony’s chest. “What is this?”

He stiffened, swallowing. “…what?”

“What is this, Tony?” The other man asked, quietly, fingers curled on Tony’s chest, just below the amulet, blue light filtering through the cotton and out between Steve’s fingers. “Tony?”

Tony licked his lips. “…how much do you know about… this day and age?”

“Bruce and I talked about it, some.” Steve said, frowning slightly, as he considered him, not moving his hand off of the other man’s chest. He seemed determined to force Tony to reveal what was going on, and if he had to do so by keeping his hand there to keep Tony’s mind on it, he would. “He told me about you, about what happened to your family since I died. He says that you were a billionaire playboy, made a lot of money and a lot of enemies, before you suddenly disappeared, and everyone thought you were dead.”

“The whole world still thinks I’m dead.” He said, firmly.

“So I hear. He showed me the, ah… _internet_.” Steve said, slightly flushed. “Which is a terrifying thing, to be quite honest with you, but I did a bit of research. I hear you, ah… went to Afghanistan to see a miracle.”

“So I did.” Tony nodded, looking down at the other’s fingers curled on his chest. “I did.”

“So… what did you mean, miracle?”

He reached up to curl his hand over Steve’s, quietly, almost holding his hand. “I was having a… midlife crisis, so to speak. I wanted to convince myself that there was something more to this world, and hell, maybe it was because I… maybe it was because of my father and his hunting, but… I wanted to know if there was something more to life. So there were all these reports saying that there was a miracle in Afghanistan – a tree had appeared in the middle of the desert, out of nowhere, and no matter how many dust storms there were, that tree stood there, bit and huge and _miraculous._ So I went to see it, with my godfather. It was his idea, he thought it would teach me to appreciate miracles, he said.”

“Was it a miraculous tree?” Steve asked, smiling faintly.

He laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. It was _massive_ , Steve. This huge oak tree, in the middle of the desert.”

“Did it convince you that there was something else out there?” He curled his fingers over the blue light.

“The tree itself, no. Not exactly. But… something happened.” Tony cleared his throat. “We were attacked. I guess someone knew who I was and thought they could get ransom or something, so they captured me, and the rest of my party, including my godfather, Obie. He – he was furious. We were locked up in this stupid cave, and we could see the tree from inside, sitting there like this beautiful omen of hope in the middle of all that fucking _sand_ , and we couldn’t get to it. I figured it couldn’t be so bad, as soon as they called back to the states, my company would pay the money, and we’d get free. No big deal. But Obie was _furious_ , he ranted and raved and just acted… so unlike himself.”

“Possessed?” Steve whispered, thinking he understood.

“Yeah.” He agreed, jaw tightly clenched. “He was possessed. I didn’t know it, I’d never seen a possessed man before, I had no idea. But he _was_ , he was possessed.”

“What did he do?” He murmured.

“He tried to kill me.” Tony looked up at his friend. Steve _was_ his friend, right? “Turns out that’s why I’d been lured out there, he thought that it would be an easy place to get rid of me, and no one would ever find me out in that desert. Only the attackers that had captured us weren’t part of the plan, so here he was, trapped with me in this cave, and he was _angry_. So he struck out, and… he tried to kill me. Only partway through, he touched the amulet, and… it hurt him, I guess, so he left. Just disappeared, like that. There I was, dying, and…” He hesitated. “One of my kidnappers saved my life.”

“How?” Steve demanded, frowning.

“It was a miracle.” Tony laughed.

Stepping back from the other man, he hesitated, then tugged the t-shirt he’d tugged on back off, tossing it onto the bed, finally exposing his chest to any other than his own reflection for the first time since he’d seen a miracle in Afghanistan.

In the centre of his chest, between his pectorals, there was a round glass and metal panel, a circle cut into his skin, with a pale blue light glowing inside the circle. There were scars, outside of the metal circle, symbols that had been deliberately carved around it. His savior had cut them in there. It was keeping him alive.

“What is this?” Steve breathed, shocked.

“I don’t know _what_ it is.” He admitted. “But… _this_ is the miracle.”

“What?” He looked up at him, startled.

“This light, this… the blue light, whatever it is, _it_ was at the core of the tree. The man that saved my life, Yusef, he told me that it was what caused the tree to grow. It fell from the skies, and where it landed, the oak tree had grown. He went to the tree, and drew out the light, and… put it inside of me. He tells me that Obie had somehow poisoned me with some sort of demonic curse, and said that only this would keep me alive. So the miracle that I went to see is what saved my life. When I got back to civilization, I discovered that Obie had told everyone I was dead – and really, based on the injuries I had, of _course_ he thought I was dead – and had tried to take over the company. Of course, he didn’t know that I’d changed my will, to make Pepper the sole heir of everything I had. I found my… I found Rhodey, and told him that I was alive, and begged him to – to take care of Pepper for me. He doesn’t know about this. I don’t think anyone but Yusef knows about this. Except, I guess, for you.”

Steve stroked his fingertips lightly over the glass and metal, and murmured, “It’s cold.”

“I know,” he nodded, looking down at the other’s hand. “I don’t know why. I don’t know what it is.”

“Should have asked Thor.” He glanced up at him, and smirked slightly. “If an angel doesn’t know, who does?”

Tony shook his head, and reached up to brush his fingertips down the back of the other’s hand, tracing the tendons under his skin, quietly. Steve had strong hands. Powerful hands. Hell, this man could probably brake him in two with those hands. “I’ll remember that for next time. At the moment, I’m fairly sure trying to stop the apocalypse is a little more important than finding out why I’m not dead, or what the hell the thing in my chest is. It’s keeping the demon sickness at bay. Isn’t that what’s important?”

“Yes.” Steve said, then leaned down to press his lips quietly to Tony’s.

Tony sighed, eyes falling shut, and slid his arms around the other man’s neck, surging up into the kiss.

 

\---

 

Tony snickered as he leaned his elbows on his table, running his thumb around the rim of his whiskey glass, peering across the smoky bar to watch Clint talking to Steve. Steve was perched on a bar stool, grinning slightly as he held a bottle of beer, and the other was leaning across the counter, arms resting on the edge of the bar, speaking eagerly and cheerfully. His friend Clint, apparently, was a bit of a fanboy. Hell, Clint had actually _recognized_ the name ‘Steve Rogers’, and he seemed to want to hear every story Steve had.

So there Tony sat, by himself, flicking through his father’s journal as he tried to glean how, exactly, he was supposed to prevent the Apocalypse.

The chair across the table from him was pulled out, and Natasha slid neatly into it.

“Well, make yourself at home,” Tony said, without looking up from his father’s scrawled writing. “I know you own the place and all, but all the same…”

“Shut up, Tony.” Natasha said, calmly. “So you’ve found yourself a legend.”

“So I hear,” he snorted, and finally looked up. “Jealous?”

“No, I already have myself my own blond idiot.” She said, calmly, folding her hands on the table. “I take it, since he’s here, that the world is about to end?”

“That obvious, huh?”

“That, and you’re reading up about the apocalypse.” Natasha said, shrugging one shoulder, and reached across the table to calmly take his glass from him, polishing off the last of his whiskey. He would have protested, but frankly, a woman like that was allowed to get away with things like that. At least, that’s what he figured, anyway. “How is he back?”

Tony frowned. “Do you believe in angels?”

“I’ve never seen one.” She said, considering that for a moment, then shook her head. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t believe in them. I’m open to the idea.”

“Good. Well, he’s here cause an asshole by the name of Thor brought him from heaven. He’s an angel.”

“Are you sure you should call angels assholes?” Natasha smirked slightly, tapping her finger on the journal that Tony was flicking through. “After all, they’re soldiers of god. They’re not fluffy winged cherubs, they’re powerful and angry warriors, and if you start calling them that, there’s a very good chance they’re going to come strike the fear of god down into you.”

He laughed. “I’m sure.”

“Hey, your ass,” she shrugged, calmly, leaning back in her seat. “So where’s your boyfriend?”

Tony arched a brow. “Who, Bruce?”

“That would be the one.” She smirked, calmly. “Or have you dumped the scientist for the muscle bound blond? I’m not sure I’d blame you, if you had, because quite frankly, he has a reputation for a reason, and he certainly _looks_ like he lives up to those reputations…” Natasha twisted in her seat, considering the two men at the bar – her partner and the legend. “Still, doesn’t seem all that nice for poor Bruce.”

“He’s at Fury’s.”

Natasha frowned slightly, twisting to look back at him. “Fury. _Nick_ Fury?”

“Yeah, Nick Fury.” Tony frowned. “…why?”

“You left him with _Nick Fury_?” She slid forward in her seat, and hissed. “He’s a good hunter, Tony, don’t get me wrong, but I would never leave someone I cared about with him. I wouldn’t leave a _book_ I cared about with him. He’s _ruthless_ , he’s a _beast_. Why is he _there_?”

He hesitated, not really sure what exactly he was supposed to say. After all, telling another hunter that your friend is addicted to something as sick as _demon blood_ was not exactly the sort of thing you advertised. Instead, he just left it at, “He needed his help with something. Why are you asking, Natasha? Should I be trying to get him out of there?”

“ _Yes_.” Natasha said, and slid out of her seat. “Clint!”

“What? I didn’t say nothing!”

“Get your bow. We have to go.” She said, leaning over the counter to scoop up her knives and a taser gun, tucking it in the belt on the back of her jeans. “You too, Rogers.”

Steve glanced at Tony, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“She says Fury isn’t safe.”

He paled, and bolted to his feet. “Then we’d better hurry, he’s had Bruce at his house for – for _weeks_ now…”

“Weeks? With _Fury_?” Clint blinked at the two men, then spun to pull the compound bow that hung over the bar down, slinging the black metal and leather quiver that hung beside the bow over his shoulder. Putting a single hand on the bartop, he vaulted over it, and marched across the bar to rap on the table of one of their regular customers. “Hey, Maria… take over for us, will you? Emergency hunt.”

The dark haired woman frowned, then nodded, and stood.

“Thanks, doll,” he grinned, then yelped when Natasha swatted him upside the back of the head, and grinned. “Sorry, the missus is a jealous woman, but thanks, Maria. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Of course I am,” she smirked slightly. “Go.”

 

\---

 

“Fury?” Tony called, gun in hand, as he slipped slowly into the fortified building. Steve’s presence just at his shoulder was a solid, comforting warmth, a reassurance. Just in case, he was _there_. Yeah, Clint and Natasha were just behind him, too, there as a comfort, an aide, but he was a little biased. “Fury, are you here?”

“Tony…” Natasha murmured, slowly.

“Yeah?”

“Any particular reason that Fury might have to have broken all of his devil’s traps?”

“What?” he looked back at the redhead, startled.

“All of his devil’s traps.” She nodded at the floor, where one of the larger ones was most clear. Sure enough, if you looked closely, there was a break in the circle around the edge of it, as though someone had taken a knife and scratched at the paint, removing a section of the circle itself. It would never hold any demon in, now. “They’re all broken.”

Tony swallowed, a sick feeling settling in his chest. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“We need to check on Bruce.” Steve said, and broke into a run, heading for the basement. The others broke into a run after him, dashing along behind him as they hurried into the basement. It was dark down there, but there was still a light over the glass container in which Bruce had been locked – and was _still_ locked. He was curled on the opposite side as them, sitting on the floor, crunched in a ball, head against the glass. What worried Tony, though, wasn’t the way Bruce was crunched in a ball – it was the bloody handprint smeared on the inside of the glass wall.

“Bruce!” Tony shouted, shoving his gun in the back of his jeans.

The other man looked up, startled, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Tony – no! Stay – stay back!”

“It’s okay, Bruce, we’re gonna get you out of there.” He said, checking the electronic panel beside the glass case, not entirely surprised to discover that it had password locks on it. Frowning, his fingers began flying across the keyboard, working to bypass Fury’s password locks. After all, this was how he’d made his fortune much larger than the one his father had left to him upon his death – with electronics and computers. He was good at this.

Steve searched around the room and ended up finding a sledge hammer. Hauling it up, he began trying to bust the glass walls of the cage in, ignoring the way that Bruce was moving back as far away from them as he could, curled in against the wall.

“Why the hell would Fury even _need_ a cage like this?” Clint frowned, arrow already to the string, ready to fire.

Natasha shook her head, a knife in hand as she paced the edges of the room. “All of the devil traps here are broken, too. There’s no protection in this place.”

“Please,” Bruce called, from inside his glass prison. “ _Please_ , go. I’m okay, I swear, just… _go_.”

“We’re not going to leave you here, Banner baby, we’re gonna bust you out of there.” Tony grinned at his friend, barely glancing up from the keyboard, although his fingers were still flicking across the keys without hesitation. “C’mon, us science bros gotta stick together, right? So we’re going to bust you out of here, and we’re going to get you some _real_ help.”

“Tony, _please_ , just _go_.” The other protested, behind the glass wall.

“Got it!” Tony said, proudly, and the door of the glass “cage” popped open, sliding back with a hiss. “All right, Bruce, get out here.”

“No, please…” Bruce said, eyes wide.

Steve dropped the sledgehammer beside the stairs that led up into the cage, and stepped into the glass box, offering Bruce his hand, quietly. “Come on, friend… let’s get out of here.”

“Get _back_!” The scientist protested – and Steve _flew_ across the cage and right out of the door, slamming into the far wall of the warehouse with a resounding crash. The blond let out a low groan, when he slid down to the ground, and panted as he tried to force himself up onto his hands and knees. To his credit, Bruce didn’t look angry and violent like he had the last time Tony had seen him react with strange telekinesis powers – he looked _terrified_ and _desperate_. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, but I said – I said…”

“Should we be shooting Bruce now, then?” Clint asked, brows furrowed. The arrow on his string _was_ in fact aimed at Bruce, now, as though waiting for the approval to kill a man he considered a friend.

“He’s possessed.” Natasha said, pushing the arrow down.

The man lowered his bow without a second’s hesitation. He listened when Natasha told him to.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce panted, desperate. “Fury’s not… Fury.”

Tony had long since abandoned the electronic panel, and was at Steve’s side, cupping the other’s jaw as he tried to meet his eyes, demanding that Steve talk to him, tell him if he was all right, count how many fingers I’m holding up, Steve!

“I’m all right,” Steve grunted, sitting up, wincing.

“Fingers, Steve!” He wiggled his hand at him, frowning.

Running his hand through his hair, he sighed, and said, “Three. And a thumb, before you come up with a smart ass comment. Now stop pestering, I’m _fine_ , but – Bruce is not.”

“…no, I’m going to go with you’re right,” he murmured, and curled his hand under the other’s arm, tugging him to his feet. Hauling Steve forward, Tony headed towards Natasha and Clint, who were standing side by side in front of the glass cage, frowning. “Guys?”

“Exorcisms aren’t working.” Natasha said.

“Because he’s not possessed.” Steve murmured, quietly, and looked up into the cage. Bruce was still crunched in against the glass wall, panting heavily. “Was it Fury, Bruce?”

The scientist hesitated, and nodded, quickly. “I’m sorry. _I’m sorry_. I never meant…”

“I know.” He said, nodding.

Tony hesitated, then glanced between his lover – because that’s what Steve _was_ , dammit – and the scientist he was friends with. “Wait, it was – Fury’s possessed.”

“ _What_?” Clint gaped at him, startled. “We’re talking about _Fury,_ right, the absolutely rabid about security _demon hunter_? You’re suggesting that the most paranoid hunter that I have ever encountered in my _entire_ life is somehow _possessed_? Because you _are_ aware of what you’re suggesting, right? You know what you’re saying? Why the hell would _Fury_ be possessed?!”

“That would explain the devil’s traps.” Natasha murmured, quietly.

“Woah, you can’t be serious.” He gaped at her.

She shrugged, quietly.

“Okay, well… we gotta get you outta here, Bruce.” Tony said, after a moment. “We need to get you somewhere safe, so we can try this… detox again.”

“No, _no_.” Bruce shook his head, quickly. “You don’t understand. He told me _why_ , okay? He told me _why_ I have to do this. It’s – it’s for the Apocalypse.”

“Yeah, I can imagine that having a hunter addicted to demon blood would be _handy_ for the apocalypse,” Tony muttered.

“Woah.” Clint looked sharply at him. “ _Addicted to demon blood_?”

“Later,” he walked, slowly, up into the cage, trying not to spook Bruce. “C’mon, Bruce, we gotta get out of here…”

“You don’t understand!” Bruce stood, hands held up, startled. He was still crunched back against the curved glass wall of the cage, breathing harshly. “The apocalypse is starting, it’s already started. There are – there are sixty six seals that they’re going to start breaking, to lead up to the actual beginning of the end of the world, and – and the fallen angel Loki is going to break one of the last seals. Maybe even the _last_ seal. This – this is the only thing we can do! I’m _powerful enough_ to stop it!”

“A demon has been talking to you, big guy, come on, we need to detox you from this so – “

“Fury!” Clint shouted.

Tony spun to look at the top of the stairs, and sure enough, there stood Fury on the top of the stairs, looking entirely displeased. “What are you doing?” He demanded.

Holding up his hands. He stepped forward, about to launch into a complicated spiel about what they could have been doing here – Tony usually had a cover story for every situation, even when it was something as bullshitty as breaking their friend out of a glass case that he was supposed to be held in for his own good – but before he could actually ask it, properly, Steve shouted, “ _Christo_!”

Fury flinched, and his single eye flicked to black.

“Son of a bitch,” Natasha hissed.

There was a twang of an arrow string, and an arrow embedded in the wall immediately behind where Fury had been just a moment before, only Fury wasn’t _there_ anymore, he was in the middle of their group, already swinging, foot slamming into Clint’s lower back before the man could get away from him, slamming him down to the ground, then already swinging to strike at Natasha. The redheaded woman flipped back in a rapid handspring, out of his way, flicking a silver knife at him. It just caught Fury’s shoulder as it flew past him, and the man howled in rage, black eye focused on the woman.

Steve let out a shout of rage, and bolted forward, slamming Fury to the ground.

“ _No_!” Bruce cried. “You don’t _understand_!”

“You’re right,” Tony fumbled with the handle of the flask of holy water he carried, and splashed holy water across Fury’s face, smiling grimly when the man that he had thought of as a mentor let out a howl of pain and rage. “We don’t.”

Steve struggled to hold the demon-possessed hunter down, baring his teeth. “Exorcise him!”

“ _Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino. Qui fertis super caelum caeli ad Orientem, ecce dabit voci Suae, vocum virtutis, tribuite virtutem Deo_ ,” Natasha started, speaking quickly as she stepped closer to where Steve was holding the almost legendary hunter down, the words almost seeming to trip off of her tongue, nearly and easily. She was good at this. She’d _practiced_. It was a tool of survival.

Fury howled, and spun, throwing Steve off of him.

“Son of a bitch!” Tony howled, darting forward to help him, only – Fury wasn’t _there_ anymore.

“What the…?” Clint gasped, startled, hand pressed to his lower back. “Shit.”

“Guess he didn’t want to give up Fury.” Steve panted.

“You don’t _understand_.” Bruce panted. “I have to stop Loki, this is the only way I can…”

“We’ll worry about that later.” Tony said, firmly, and took a deep breath. “Come on, boys and girls, let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

\---

 

They had found a little motel that was actually little cabins, and rented one of the crappy little log cabins for the group. Bruce sat on the end of one of the beds, jittery and nervous, clearly going into withdrawal, already.

The other four sat around the rest of the room, watching him, which definitely made the whole situation somewhat _awkward_ , just the four of them watching him.

Tony sat on the little couch beside Steve, trying not to be ridiculously proud of the fact that the muscular blond had his arm across the back of the couch, and his hand curled silently on Tony’s shoulder. He was absolutely smug about the fact that Steve was, in fact, curled beside him, but he wasn’t going to draw attention to it. After all, it would probably be a bit bratty to brag about it when Clint had tried to put his arm around Natasha’s shoulder, and she had pushed his arm away, right? Hilarious, maybe, but still a little bratty.

“I don’t understand,” Steve said, finally, though his arm was still curled around Tony’s shoulders. _Ha, take that, Clint, I get attention and you don’t!_ “How, exactly, is drinking demon blood supposed to make you able to stop this fallen angel, Loki?”

Bruce took a deep breath, and fiddled with the cuffs of his shirt. “I can exorcise them.”

“We all can.” Natasha said, without humour.

He nodded, quietly, and said, “But I don’t need the _exorcism_. I can… I can do it with my mind. Fury brought them down there, to show me how. I can _kill_ the demons _themselves_. Not the hosts, I can _save_ the hosts, I can kill the demons themselves. Just with my mind. Loki is a fallen angel, he’s a demon, basically, right? Powerful, but… but I can do it. I can _stop him_.”

“I’m not sure about this seal thing,” Clint frowned, shaking his head. “That doesn’t make sense. Where are you getting the idea of these _seals_?”

Bruce hesitated. “From Fury.”

“Who is a _demon_ , at the moment.” Tony pointed out.

“I’m not lying.” He said, firmly.

“Well… ask Thor, then.” Tony said, firmly.

“Ask Thor what?”

All five of them spun, startled. The angel stood just inside the doorway of the little cabin, arms crossed over his chest. He looked entirely _calm_ , despite the fact that he had suddenly _appeared_ in the middle of their cabin without a sound or a warning. Arching a brow, the angel said, again, “Ask Thor what?”

“…sixty six seals.” Tony said, at last, blinking at the angel for a moment.

He tilted his head slightly to the side, then asked, “What about them?”

“Oh,” Steve breathed.

“They’re real?” Natasha demanded.

“I _told_ you.” Bruce said, fiercely.

Thor glanced sharply at Bruce, brows furrowed, then finally said, “Yes, the seals are real. There are hundreds of seals, but there are sixty six that need to be broken, in order for the apocalypse to completely _begin_. It is… unfortunate.”

“So the demon that’s possessed Fury wasn’t lying, then?” Natasha frowned.

Thor’s eyes were downcast for a moment, then admitted, “Demons are known as liars, but sometimes they tell the truth.”

“So Bruce _is_ supposed to kill Loki before he can open that final seal?”

Thor looked up, sharply, hesitating. “…I would not bank on that. Avoid depending on that. If at all possible, pray it never comes to that. Stop the breaking of the other seals, first. Ensure that Banner _never_ has to do that. Please. Trust me, Banner, you do not want to do this.”

He hesitated, and nodded, jerkily.

The angel nodded, and closed his eyes. “There are three seals already broken. Stop the next sixty three.”

Tony took a deep breath, then shrugged, looking at his companions. “Think we can do that?”

Clint snickered. “We are _born_ to do that.”

 

\---

 

Carefully stripping out of his jacket, Tony hissed as he pulled the fabric off of the wound on the inside of his left elbow. It had been perfectly sliced, of course, right through the jacket and into the skin, and he groaned softly, swallowing. “God, I hate pagan gods.”

“Funny, they love you,” Steve stepped forward, quietly, and took Tony’s arm in his hands, considering the wound. “Considering they were going to eat you.”

“I’m probably delicious,” Tony sighed, closing his eyes. “Still. Hate them.”

“I know.” Steve murmured, then pressed a kiss to Tony’s forehead, then said, “Get out of that shirt, you probably need stitches. I’ll stitch you back up.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, and carefully stripped out of his shirt. Wincing, he said, “You know Bruce is still hooked on demon blood, right? He’s still drinking it, even after… after everything. I really thought that he’d learned his lesson, but he’s still doing it. We’re going to stop the apocalypse _before_ the sixty six seals are gone, and he actually has to do anything.”

“Yes, I know.” He said, quietly.

“Seriously, Steve.” Tony said, looking up at his lover. “He’s still doing it.”

“I know.” Steve said, again, and cupped Tony’s jaw for a moment, looking at him, quietly, then kissed him, quietly. Finally, he stepped back a little, and said, “All right, shirt _off_ , we need to stitch up your arm, remember?”

“Right.” He flushed, and carefully stripped out of it, carefully.

They sat down on the bed, and for a long few minutes, they were quiet. It was a companionable silence, really, as Steve retrieved the first aid kit, and carefully stitched up his lover’s arm. A few minutes later, he offered Tony a bottle of whiskey, and the dark haired man gratefully knocked back a long swig before slumping down onto the pillows, sighing softly.

“I had a thought.” Steve murmured.

“If it’s that we really ought to be more naked, and that we should have some really awesome ‘thank god we’re not dead and at least there are still thirty-three seals intact’ sex, then I am _all_ for that.” Tony said, eyes still closed as he leaned back on the pillows.

“That’s _not_ a bad idea,” he said, with a soft laugh, then tapped the glass embedded in Tony’s chest, lightly.

“It’s not about the thing in my chest, is it?” He sighed, finally opening his eyes.

“It is, actually.” He said, quietly.

Sighing again, Tony took another long swig of the whiskey, then said, “All right, Steve baby, let’s hear the theory, then.”

“You remember the angel Anna?” Steve asked.

“Of course I do.” He pushed himself up onto his elbows, then hissed when that made the stitches in his left arm scrape against his arm, and slumped back down into the pillows again. “She was totally hot. Can’t blame that Winchester guy for banging her, angel or no. But of course, baby, you’re always going to win for me. No matter _how_ gorgeous she was, she just doesn’t really have your ass, does she?”

Steve rolled his eyes, brushing Tony’s hair back off his forehead. “That’s not what I meant. I mean… when Thor helped us find her grace.”

“Oh, right, I remember that.” He nodded. “And that uptight angel, Cassie or whatever his name was, he was helping with that, too. Yeah, of course I remember. Never seen anything like that before.”

He hesitated. “I have.”

“Really?” Tony looked up at him, surprised.

Steve nodded, quietly, and tapped the glass again. “Right here.”

He snorted. “I’m no angel.”

“I never said you were, but… remember what they were saying, about the tree where Anna’s grace was found? It sounded a lot like your miracle tree in Afghanistan. And her grace… it looked a _lot_ like this…”

“Are you saying I have an angel’s _grace_ in my _chest_?” Tony gaped up at Steve, shocked.

“I don’t know for sure, but…”

He blinked up at his lover, and slumped back into the pillows again, closing his eyes for a moment. Finally, Tony curled his fingers on top of his lover’s, pressing their hands down onto the glass surface, and murmured, “So what angel does it belong to, then? What angel am I keeping human by keeping their grace locked up in my chest, Steve?”

“I don’t know.” He murmured, softly, and leaned over to press his lips to the back of Tony’s hand.

“What are the chances that a man with the grace of an angel is a seal?” Tony asked, quietly.

“Not good, I hope.”

He laughed, breathlessly, and shook his head, looking up at the mirrored ceiling. “God, can this _get_ any weirder?”

“I’m not sure, but in my experience, it often – “

“I need your help.”

Tony yelped, bolting up in bed, gaping at the angel standing at the end of their bed. Thor looked absolutely unapologetic about standing there without warning, still dressed in his jeans, though there was blood splashed across his white t-shirt. “ _Thor_! Good god, learn to _knock_!”

The angel huffed. “This was too important for knocking.”

“We could have been – we could have been _doing_ something that you really shouldn’t have been walking into!” Steve said, flushed, half hiding behind Tony. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the angel, it was just that Steve was remarkably _sky_ , Tony had discovered. Perhaps a byproduct of his raising in the early twentieth century, but he seemed remarkably shy about everything, and when he was talking about things like sex – because let’s be honest, Tony thought, they could have been having sex – he tended to get all pink and flustered. “So you really ought to knock!”

“I checked, to ensure that you were not _en coitus_.” Thor said, without concern. “I need your help.”

Tony huffed, shifting so that he could run his fingernails up and down his lover’s spine, fingertips bumping down his vertebrae. “If you’re going to be spying in on our sex, least you could do is _enjoy_ it. Now… what in hell can two _human_ hunters do to help an angel?”

“There is a large amount of demons congregating around a cabin.” Thor said, frowning slightly. “We have reason to believe that Fury is there.”

“So go lay the holy smackdown on him,” Tony frowned, not seeing the problem.

“We’re unable to.” He said, quietly. “There are anti-angel wards.”

“Heh.” He grinned up at Steve. “We’re fucking awesome, we are. This is why the angels always keep human pets, you know.”

Steve sighed softly, shaking his head, and said, “We should go, then.”

“Sex _after_ , all right?”

Thor huffed slightly. “It is _urgent_.”

“All right, all right.” Tony slid off of the bed, and grabbed a clean shirt, tugging it on. “If it’s such an emergency, go get the others then, huh?”

There was a moment of silence, and Tony looked up again, ready to tell Thor to get a move on, but the angel was already gone. “…you know, I _hate_ when he does that.”

Steve laughed softly, and kissed Tony’s forehead again. “Yeah. So do I. Come on, let’s go.”

 

\---

 

Thor hadn’t been kidding, when he said that the land they were going to had anti-angel wards. There were symbols scrawled on the outside walls, slashed on the wood with white spray paint.

There was also, unfortunately, about a hundred men and women with black eyes circled around the cabin itself.

“…oh, _this_ is going to end well,” Tony murmured, crouched behind a low stone wall.

“Perfect opportunity to try out my new arrows, though,” Clint grinned slightly, checking the quiver full of arrows that he had strapped to his back. They were uniquely designed arrows, standard except for a  small glass bulb just behind the arrow head itself, full of water. It would be much harder to shoot with arrows like that, because of course one would have to compensate for the movement of the liquid inside, and the weight of the new arrow, but Clint, apparently, was determined and crazy enough to give it a shot. “Holy water arrows. These are going to make history, boys.”

“Just clear us a path, so we can get into the cabin,” Steve said, quietly. “Wish I had a shield, or something…”

“We’ll go about making you a shield,” Tony grinned, and leaned over to kiss Steve. “Now is _not_ _the time_ , guys,” Natasha said, with a low growl, frowning. She had a pair of spray paint cans, one in each hand. “Make us a clear path, Clint.”

“Will do, my little spider.” He grinned, and suddenly stood, and started firing arrows.

It was a thing of beauty, really. An arrow would strike one of the demons, and the glass bulb would explode as the arrow itself went through the intended target, so that holy water sprayed across not only them, but the five or six demons in the area around them, burning them. Besides, Clint had made sure the arrows themselves were silver tipped, so they would injure them, as well. He fired arrow after arrow, in rapid succession, deliberately hitting them in a row, clearing a path.

The other four vaulted over the wall, and dashed through the cleared out path, as quickly as they could. Steve slammed one of the demons in the face, smashing his nose straight back into the host’s head, and Tony felt a little surge of pride – not for the first time – of having come up with the silver “brass” knuckles that Steve wore, _JESU_ carved into the left one, _CHRISTO_ into the right. Effective. Tony worked with his own silver blade, slashing at the demons to at least get them out of the way, dashing towards the cabin itself. As soon as they neared it, Natasha shook up the spray paint cans, the little ball bearings inside shaking about inside, rattling and crashing, then she began slashing at the symbols on the wall, destroying the anti-angel wards.

Suddenly there was a shout, and Thor appeared in their midst, angel sword flying as he slashed at the demons.

“Inside!” Steve slammed into the wooden door, smashing it inwards, and dashed inside.

And then there was a sound that made Tony’s blood run cold.

It sounded like an animal bellowing in pain, like a bear that had just gotten its foot caught in a trap – angry, but in pain, a howl of desperation.

“ _Steve_!” Tony howled, and dashed inside the cabin.

For a moment, he didn’t see his lover. He saw Fury, standing at the other end of the cabin, single eye black as he glowered at him, but he didn’t see Steve. And then he heard a soft gurgling sound, and his head whipped to the side, to see Steve crumpled on the floor beside the door, drawing in a very wet sounding breath. It was a liquid sort of sound, a raggedy sucking sound as he fought to draw breath.

“You son of a _bitch_!” He roared, and launched himself at Fury.

Fury flicked a hand at Tony – and he flew back against the wall, pinned to it. It was painful, pinned to the wall, but not because of the pain itself. It was because he was pinned, completely unable to do anything other than watch, seeing his lover drawing in ragged, wet breaths, fighting for his life.

“Tony, Tony, Tony…” Fury – or the demon that was wearing him – stepped forward, almost lazily, and shook his head. “You should have just lost my number when I told you to. After all, I think you’re worth keeping around. But… you had to be an idiot about it.” He shook his head, and tutted as he walked past him. There was shouting outside, howls and shouts of demons and their allies as they fought, but Tony’s attention was entirely on the whisper of Fury’s boots, and the increasingly ragged breaths that Steve was taking. Blood was running down his jaw, blood dripping on his lap, on the floor. “You know, you showed promise once. But then I sent you after those witches, and… what the _hell_ were you thinking, _letting them go_? I mean… they’re _witches_ , Tony. Filthy little whores that sold their souls to demons… they’re lower than the low, selling their souls to try and be like us. They’ll _never_ be as good as us. So… I had to clean up your messes. Seems I’m _always_ cleaning up _Stark_ messes.”

Fury drew back his boot, and kicked Steve solidly in the gut, grinning almost viciously when the man let out another cry of agony, teeth grit against the pain.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” Tony roared, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him to the wall.

“Or…?” Fury arched a brow. “You’ll do what. You’re helpless, Tony Stark. And I killed him once before… I’ll kill him again.”

Panting, Steve gagged, and said, “You’re – you’re Herr Schmidt.”

“Nicely deduced, Steve Rogers.” The demon wearing Fury smirked, crookedly.

Tony licked his lips. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I _can_.” Fury said, with laughter, and spread out his hands. “Don’t you understand? You humans… you’re like rats in a maze, running around and getting nowhere. Because there’s no door for this maze, no cheese, no way to get out. You’re just running around because you have no idea where else to go or what else to do. So we’re bringing some _order_ to the mess. By killing you all. Come on, you’ll _like_ hell.”

“So what you’re saying,” Tony panted, “Is that you’re doing us a favour?”

“Sure,” Fury shrugged. “Doing you a favour, doing _me_ a favour… all around, I’m doing _someone_ a favour, and that gets me _power_ , which has always been something I like, let’s be honest.”

“And _you_ told Bruce about Loki,” He said, clearing his throat.

“I did,” he agreed.

“Awfully nice of you,” he frowned slightly, rolling his shoulders, testing how he was pinned to the wall and growled just slightly in frustration at still being utterly pinned to the wall like fly paper. “So what’s your ulterior motive, Fury?”

He just grinned viciously.

Tony flicked the mickey of holy water at his father’s old friend, grinning grimly when Fury howled in anger and pain.

Then the remains of the door slammed open again, and Bruce staggered into the cabin. His eyes were wide behind his glasses, and he carried himself confidently, shoulders spread to make him take up as much space as possible. There was blood smeared around his mouth, dripping slowly onto his shirt, and he was panting, harshly. He was _smiling_ though, as he stepped forward, lifting his hand towards Fury.

His eyes widened, and Fury gagged slightly, black smoke spilling out of his mouth.

Tony abruptly dropped off of the wall, and he scrambled forward towards Steve, tugging him up so that he cradled his lover’s head in his lap, stroking his jaw gently, whispering, “Steve? Steve, come on, look at me…”

“Heya, Tony…” he rasped, blood bubbling from his lips.

“You’re not dying, you hear me?!”

“Sure, Tony,” he murmured.

Bruce was moving forward, teeth bared as he pushed the power he was wielding harder and harder into Fury. Black smoke was bubbling faster and faster out of his mouth, almost like boiling water from an over-filled tea pot. It clung, thick and oily black, around his feet, writhing and wriggling like a living thing. Then, abruptly, it burned straight through the floor, and Fury dropped bonelessly to the wooden floor.

Bruce slumped slightly, wiping at the blood dribbling from his nose, and panted, “Is he all right, Tony?”

Steve’s hand slipped off of Tony’s arm, eyes half lidded and not quite focused.

“Steve, you son of a bitch, don't you dare die on me!”

Steve didn't really seem to be in much of a shape to answer at the moment, because he was bleeding rather profusely right now, blood bubbling weakly from his lips, his eyes not really focused on anything. He was laying back in Tony's lap, head resting on the other's thighs, but if the life wasn't already gone from the other man's eyes, it was going to leave soon.

“Wake up!” Tony raged, shaking his shoulders. Steve's head lolled limply, like a rag doll. “ _Wake up_ , Steve!”

“Tony, we gotta go,” Bruce said, holding a cloth to his own head, trying to staunch the bleeding.

“I am _not_ leaving him.” He snarled.

The doctor sighed, and said, “Steve's had a good life, Tony, this is his second time around, come on, you know it's not safe to stay here, we have to keep moving... they're going to come _back_ if we don't fucking keep _moving_!”

Tony clutched Steve closer, then turned his head skywards, yelling at the ceiling. “ _Thor_! Come on, I know you can hear me, you bastard! Get your feathered ass down here and _save_ him!”

“Most unorthodox prayer _I’ve_ ever heard,” Bruce muttered to himself.

No one really seemed like they were showing up in response to the plea, either. Tony let out a roar of frustration, shaking Steve again. “Wake _up_!”

The door based open, and Clint hurried into the room, clutching at his empty quiver, brows furrowed. “What are you ladies doing in here, having a tea social? We have an army of black eyes swarming us, we - “ His eyes fell on Steve, and he hissed, startled. “God, you had _one_ job, Tony, just keep them away from him...”

“Shut up, Clint.” Tony muttered, holding Steve, but there was something changing in the room. There was light, a blue light that was beginning to glow.

Oddly enough, it was coming from Tony's chest.

“Look, gather him up, maybe - “ Clint glanced at Bruce, who looked about as optimistic as he did. “Maybe we can find a way. But let's go.”

“Go without me,” Tony's chest was really starting to shine, now, bright and blue.

“We're not going to – Tash can't hold them off out there!” Clint argued.

“Just _go_ , I’ll catch up,” he said, through gritted teeth, face lit oddly from beneath by the blue light. “If Thor can't be bothered to get his fucking halo'd ass down here to help me, then I’ll just do it _myself_!”

And then the blue light exploded.

 

\---

 

“I don’t like it, Bruce.”

He glanced at Natasha, and smiled faintly at the redhead. “I don’t like it any more than you, but we have to do it. If I don’t stop him…”

“He has got a point, Tash,” Clint said, shifting his bow. “Loki’s in there, about to bust the sixty sixth seal. And you know what happens if he manages it… Lucifer and Michael are gonna ride the Winchester boys straight into Ragnarok, and you can kiss the world we know goodbye, huh? So we may not like it, but…”

“It’s not what Tony would have wanted,” she said, frowning.

“Yes, well, I doubt he wanted to die, either.” Bruce said, then stood. “I have to do this.”

“Be careful,” Clint said.

Bruce smiled faintly, and headed inside the old stone building. Ivy grew over every exposed bit of stonework, curled around statues like living blindfolds, obscuring the features of what had once been an extensive mausoleum. Moving quietly through the hallways, Bruce approached the tomb at the end of the hall, the tomb where Loki was supposed to be trying to open the final seal.

Swallowing, he stepped slowly into the room.

Loki was there, all right. Dressed as he had been every time that Bruce had seen him before, in a black suit with a long black opera coat, an emerald green scarf looped lazily around his neck. Only he looked frustrated at the moment, with Steve Roger’s arm wrapped firmly around his neck in a choke hold, keeping him in place.

“ _Steve_!” Bruce gasped, taking a startled half step forward.

His friend – the man he’d seen _die_ six months ago – smiled faintly, but didn’t loosen his hold on the fallen angel’s neck. “Hello, Bruce. You don’t have to do this. Please, you _really_ don’t have to do this.

Startled by the almost-tears forming at the bottom of his own eyes, Bruce hesitated, then shook his head. “No. I have to do this, Steve. You’re here, you know… _look at him_! He’s going to do it! Loki is going to break the seal, the final seal, and he’s going to bring on the Apocalypse, and I _have_ to stop him! This is the only way, Steve!”

“Do listen to him, Steve,” Loki said, drawling. “This is the only way, Steve.”

The blond tightened his hold on the demon’s neck, and Loki grimaced slightly, as though displeased.

“I don’t want the world to end,” Bruce said.

“Then don’t do this,” Steve said, swallowing hard. “There is _no way_ that this ends good, Bruce, there is no way that this ends well. Demons told you that he was the final seal, demons told you how to stop him, _god_ , demons gave you the powers you’re harbouring in there, it’s all _demons_ , you know you can’t trust them!”

“Oh come, we’re very trustworthy,” Loki smirked, then bared his teeth when Steve tightened his hold again. “Come now, Steve, you’re making him angry. You wouldn’t like Bruce Banner when he’s angry.”

“Back. Down.” Steve said, tightly.

“I can’t.” He said, softly, with a great air of tragedy to him. He really _didn’t_ want to do this. But he had to kill Loki, or the demon was going to start the end of the world.

A door slammed behind them, and Bruce spun to face it.

Tony Stark stood in front of the massive metal and wood double doors, smiling faintly. “Hey, Bruce.”

“Tony – “

“Yeah. We’re not dead. Surprise.” He looked his old friend up and down, and said, “Now… let’s leave the demon, and get the fuck out of here. We can talk, we can figure this out, but you do _not_ want to end this like this, Bruce, trust me, you do _not_ want to go there…”

“I have to.” Bruce’s eyes bled black, and his shoulder’s squared, confident and controlled.

“I’m sorry, Bruce.” Tony said, and there was a flicker of lightning through the room, shadows growing behind Tony that didn’t make sense – how could there be the shadows of _wings_ behind him? – and he flicked his wrist, a long silver blade dropping out of his sleeve, falling into his hand. “But it turns out the miracle I found in Afghanistan was my own. And if I have to kill you to stop you… I have to do what I have to do.”

Loki smirked, and breathed, to Steve, “You’re going to face Apocalypse whether you like it or not, old man.”

“I have faith in my friends.” The blond said, tightly.

“Mm. So do I,” the demon drawled.

Bruce roared in anger, and leapt forward towards Tony, who raised that silver sword of his.

This was how the end started.

 


End file.
